


Fade Touched

by LemonTears



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ancient Elvehnan, And its Lavellans Duty to Save Us All, Angst, Dragons, Elves, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It, Slow Burn, Solas fucks everything up, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonTears/pseuds/LemonTears
Summary: She had pledged her heart a slave to him, fought to find another way, held on to every last broken fragment of hope... and he still destroyed the world.After all was said and done, she was supposed to close her eyes and finally rest in death. But no, fate was a cruel mistress, sending her to walk the fade painfully alone. Until, that is, she meets a dragon in the fade who sends her falling through the sky and into the past. When she lands she finds herself back before it all began, staring into yet another crisis; fix it all.





	1. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and uh, welcome. 
> 
> I know that fix-it stories have been done before, but I’ve recently been replaying DA:I and am getting hyped for Rise of The Dread Wolf (please let it come out soon), so I decided I wanted to try one for myself.
> 
> This is mostly being written for my own pleasure, but if you enjoy it as well, that would be most excellent.

It was the end.

She had never truly thought there would be and _end_ , clinging desperately instead to the thin ribbons of hope that seemed to deteriorate in her grasp as she pulled on each new one. But now there was no more ribbons, no more hope, and this was the end.

The end of the world. The end of her and her friends. The end of _him_.

She stared up at him, though her eyelids fluttered dangerously, begging her to just close them and finally rest. Her body was broken in so many places, both physically and beneath her bloodied skin. Her arm, still missing from years past. Her breaths, slow and painful, and she was sure they were numbered. Everything about her screamed and cried and raged for her to just let it all go. To just _fall, fall, fall_ like the empty bodies that lay around them in their last battlefield.

Alas, her one gift in life was her inability to give up, though she supposed after all these years it seemed more like a curse that caused too much pain.

“Solas… It doesn’t have to end like this.” She says, though it was barely more then a whisper. Her lips are cracked and bloody, her voice raspy and sore.

Her lover stood before her in his golden armour and white furs, though both were tattered and bloodied. Long gashes marred his form, most of which she had given him. He stood on shaky legs, clutching his staff to stay upright. It retched her stomach, and if she had any contents left in her, she was sure it would have been lost to the battlefield.

But it was his face that was the most horrific sight; hollow and sunken with years of exhaustion they both shared, twisted into a mask of heart-wrenching pain as he looked down on her. The freckles she had once loved to count and map out like the constellations were hidden beneath layers of dirt, grime and blood. Her blood. His blood. The blood of their friends and countless innocents who had fought on both sides. Solas’ eyes… Those forever eyes that looked into her soul, threatened to spill tears she had never seen.

“But alas, every alternative was worse, and now there is no other options.” His voice was as terrible as her own.

Her heart swelled painfully and she coughed blood down the front of her, spilling down her chin. His eyes shut at the sound, wincing as if the pain was his own.

“There is always something more we could do. We could…” She mumbles, but comes up with no words.

There truly were no other options. She would know if there was. It had been ten years since the beginning of the Inquisition, eight of which she had spent researching, studying, scavenging the world for just that; another option. Solas had planned to gain enough power to tear the veil down, to restore the world to the way the Ancient Elves had experienced it. To bring back the magic, the immortality, the world he had grown in. She had searched, begged whatever gods existed, for some way to appease him without destroying everything.

Her hand lay empty of possibilities, even after all those years.

Meanwhile, Solas had gained many followers, and much power. Enough to shatter the veil and send the world she knew toppling down. Enough to kill them all. He was the one who had said he would bring back his world, even if meant destroying her own.

She had no other choice then, but to put an end to him… But even as she sat before him, body bearing the signs of her endless fight against him, she knew he would have always won.

Solas laughs, but it is humourless and sad. The tears begin to fall now. “You never fail to surprise me… with that soul of yours. So unique, so beautiful, always looking for the light in the dark. If only everyone was like this.”

He walks forward, and she wonders for a moment if he means to end her, but instead he just falls before her on his knees. His eyes stare into her own for what feels like an eternity.

“I don’t like what I’m doing either, but it must be done.” He forfeits.

“All for your world? Was it truly that magnificent?” She muses, feeling the anger rising. The anger that had always been there, shoved way down under her desperation to find a way to make things work. The bitterness of his betrayal, of his abandonment even after she had offered to join him in his cause.

His tears are flowing down his cheeks, dragging the dirt and blood with them, falling down his jaw and throat.

“This world was an abomination of my making, and I must be the means to its end.” He breaths, nearly sobbing.

She can’t find the pity inside herself for him. It was all dried up. He had done this to himself, to all of them.

“So why do you hesitate now?” She bites out, thinly veiled anger in her tone.

He stares at her, she stares back, then he explains, “When I tear down the veil, the fade will become one with the waking world once again and I will regain my full power; the power to turn back time. To return to my past and fix it all. It is everything I have dreamed for since waking from my slumber, and yet…”

“And yet?” She whispers, the anger and sorrow swirling together into the familiarity of heartbreak. She hates him so much, and loves him even more. She hates to see the man that she loves falling to pieces in front of her.

He reaches forward with his free hand, the one that isn’t gripping his staff, and runs it along her cheek, caressing her sore skin where her vallaslin had once been. She is too exhausted to move away from the tender touch, not that she would even if she could. She finds herself begrudgingly leaning her heavy head against his cool hand.

“And yet, _vhenan_ , it is a world where you do not exist. A world where you will not ever.” He says. The word feels like daggers, opening up the hidden places where she kept her love for him.

It is her turn to cry and laugh bitterly now. Her already hazy vision growing more bleary. She tells herself to stop, to stop crying, if only to see him more clearly in their last moments. “You never let that stop you before. Now is not the time to be sentimental.” She says, betraying her own thoughts.

A tired smile pulls to his lips as he wipes the tears away from her eyes. “Ah, but it is always in the end when sentimentality is summoned.”

She knew it was the end, but somehow hearing him say it cemented it in her mind. There was no turning back. He had made up his mind to destroy it all.

She supposed it was finally time for her to give up. Once and for all.

After everything, after all the fighting and pain and sorrow, at least there would be an end.

“Do you remember our first kiss at Haven?” She looks at him, committing every sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his head, the point of his ears to her memory.

He doesn’t seem to understand why she would bring this up, but indulges her all the same. What’s a few more seconds before erasing your love from history? “I brought you to the fade.”

She nods slowly. “How simple those times were. If only they had lasted.”

A breath escapes Solas, “If only.”

“Do you think you could indulge me, in one last kiss, for the road?” She sighs.

She was being greedy. It was the end of the world, her closest most dear friends laid slain around her, and what she wanted most was to just feel him against her one time more.

His eyes soften, and without words he closes the space between their lips.

The kiss is painful and tastes like blood and dirt and sorrow. Her lips bleed, but she presses harder, as if doing so will imprint the feeling there forever. If not on her lips, on his, so that he might never forget her kiss when he returns to his world and she is gone. They breath into each other and all of their passion tumbles together at once.

When they pull back, foreheads resting against one another, they are both shaking and sobbing messes, entangled against each other.

Her voice breaks as she whispers, “Well hurry then, and send me to rest.”

He stares at her for a moment before his free arm is pulling her close and she buries her tired face into the dirt and blood of his white wolf pelts. She feels his other arm raise his staff above their fallen bodies, and then the energy that begins to buzz through the air, into the ground and through their bodies.

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_. I will never forget you.” He whispers into her ear.

_Dareth shiral_ , she wants to say, but doesn’t have the energy to.

So instead, there, in the end, she clings to him as the world suddenly goes black.

* * *

 

She wakes up.

That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?

She sits up slowly at first, because her bones ache and her body seems as broken as it had before it all. She looks down at herself second, seeing the same tattered armour, blood and muck caked in the fabrics. The same wounds, though they don’t seem to be bleeding quite as much, and the bruises have turned yellow, as if time had passed.

What had happened?

Maybe more importantly, _where was she_?

Looking around her, she feels her blood run cold.

The sky, if she could call it that, and all around her were vast expanses of greens. Blackened rocks and islands hung suspended in the air without a care for gravity. Puddles of greenish black water lay stagnant. Mountains rose from the earth ominously. The ground she sat upon was dark and hard and unforgiving. The green light that shone across everything gave it an odd glow. A familiar glow. She had been here before.

The fade.

Was this the afterlife? Had Solas succeeded?

Standing took effort, but eventually she stumbled to her feet, her only hand clutching at her aching ribs. Walking took even more effort, and she did so at a snails pace.

“Hello?” She called, to no one in particular, only hoping anyone would answer.

No response.

“Hello!? Anyone!?” She yelled, putting more volume into it, no matter how hard her throat restricted.

No response. Again.

Maybe, she thinks, just maybe, if this was the afterlife, she had to be specific about who she wanted to call to?

“Dorian? Sera? Bull? Cassandra?” She yells as she limps forward, across the never ending fade. She continues this, going through every name she can think of, from her friends to her family, and even people she hadn’t known very well, or that she didn’t want to see at all. She would take anyone who could give her answers.

Finally she whispers, “Solas?”

She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t the loud screeching noise that tore through the air.

Looking behind her, she saw something moving in the distance, climbing over some steep, rocky hills, so far away that she had to squint to see what it was; a black mass with eight long spindly legs poking out of it and far too many eyes.

_No_. Her mind cried. _No, no, no. It cant be._

Oh but it could.

The spider-shaped demon came crawling after her, having been spurred by her yelling. But it wasn’t alone, and she felt her heart begin to race as countless more began to skitter into her view, climbing down the hills towards her.

She was in no state for fighting, and even running away seemed like an impossible feat. She could easily just stay where she was and let them take her; she was already dead, what more could they do? But she knew she wouldn’t. Not until she figured out what happened.

So, she turned and ran as fast as she could with her legs feeling as if they would fall of at any moment.

The spiders were faster though, and soon they were gaining on her as she ran through a small crevice between two hills, trying to get them off her trail.

She couldn’t help but be reminded of her first physical trip to the fade, running away from the same demons, up the mountain to Divine Justinia’s reach. This time though, she did not have the luxury of divine aid.

Instead, she cleared the other side of the crevice, only to trip over her own two feet. She fell to the ground and continued to thrash down a small hill. The wind was knocked from her lungs and she looked around as best she could with double vision.

The sounds of the eight-legged spiders were coming closer and closer, and she didn’t know where to go.

Her eyes caught a small outcropping of a stone cave nearby that she just _might_ be able to hide in. It was the only option, so with the last of her energy, she crawled to the empty space and slipped through, pressing herself to the wall.

_Please, whatever’s out there, don’t let them find me._

She waited, and waited, and waited some more. The sounds of the pincers snapping came too close at one point, and she held her breath until her lungs ached. Then, under some miracle, the demons trailed another direction.

She leaned her head back against the stone and gasped for air.

So she was in the fade. And there was demons here.

This was no peaceful afterlife she had been sent to. She wondered if this was what she deserved though, pain and suffering, all alone in the fade that had started all this nonsense.

Was she destined to be trapped here?

As she closed her eyes, still clutching her pulsing body, she thought on whether or not she would ever truly rest.

And then her consciousness fell away.

* * *

Time worked differently in the fade.

She was unsure how long she had been there. There was no day or night, no shadows to tell the time by. Instead, she had to find other ways to track the hours gone by.

First, she tracked it by the time it took her to heal. In her world, it would have taken her at least a week for the bruises to subside. A month for the scabs of her cuts to fall off and turn into scars. A month, if she was lucky, for the ribs to heal from their fractures.

When she was healed, she then tracked the time by how long her fingernails and hair grew. Sometimes she even tried to count the seconds, but it caused her mind to spin before too long, like she was driving herself crazy with the numbers.

Eventually she gave up on tracking the time altogether.

Instead, she just wandered, and learned.

One thing was for certain, she was the only person here. No matter how far she travelled, there was no one except for herself and the occasional demons. Surprisingly, unnervingly, there was no spirits either.

Wherever she was, it was both the Fade and not at the same time. A shell of what she had seen it.

After a while she discovered she no longer felt the need to eat or drink here. Her body seemed to sustain itself somehow without the nutrients she would have had to consume in the normal world. But this did not mean she was healthy.

It didn’t take her long to figure out her body, even if it was already dead, was dying more.

People were not supposed to spend their lives walking the fade and she found this out the hard way.

Some times she would find her body disobeying her mind; no matter how hard she told herself to move, her legs would not listen. Other times it felt like the air and energy around her was seeping into her blood, into her bones, and causing them to tremble. Her mind began to play tricks on her.

She began to feel like she was losing herself, forgetting everything that happened to her. One second she would be singing a song about a girl named Sera, and the next she was thinking, _didn’t I know a Sera once_? This realization scares her most of all; that she was being driven mad by the fade. That one day she would forget them all, forget herself, forget him.

So she began to talk to herself, repeating the names of her friends and family like a chant. Trying to picture a memory of each of them when she did.

Eating pride cookies with Sera on the roof while talking about what clouds would taste like, and good gods, what crazy nonsense had Cole said today?

Drinking burning liquors with Iron Bull and the Chargers that he said would put hair on her chest, despite whether she wanted that or not.

Laying with her head in Dorian’s lap as they talked about things to take their mind off the weight of the world; what colour of underwear do you think Vivienne was wearing, and what fantastic vacation they would take after everything was all over, somewhere warm perhaps.

Watching Blackwall, Thom Rainier, carve a gryphon from wood while she warmed her hands on the fire.

Her advisors bickering amongst each other, and her and Cassandra’s attempts to keep the peace amongst them all.

And last, but most of all, the stolen kisses, subtle caresses and embraces of Solas. The endless questions she would ask him about his journeys. Watching his eyes light up as he shared his knowledge with her, smiling when she made him continue, or blinking in fascination when she said something he had not expected. The nights when he would bring her to places in the dreaming world, in the very Fade she was now trapped in. The one he had doomed her to.

It _hurt_. But it was better then not losing them all together.

She wondered what would take her first, the fade poisoning her body or mind?

She also discovered that she didn’t seem to need to sleep all that often, but then again, time was still a tricky thing. Sometimes it felt like days before she needed to rest from wandering, and others it felt like hours. When she did sleep, there was no dreams. Sleep felt like blinking.

Despite the pain and agonizing ache of _everything_ though, she couldn’t find it in herself to rest in one place for long. Hopping from one cave or hovel to another between sleep. It would have just been easier to lay down and just let herself expire to the inevitable madness and pain of the fade, to become nothing or maybe to just become a demon. It would have been simpler, but her stomach was always somersaulting in, what was it, anxiety? Restlessness? Nevertheless, _something_ kept her on the move.

Occasionally she came across parts of the fade that seemed, weaker wasn’t the word, _more normal_ maybe? As normal as it could be in the fade. Remnants of the world left behind.

Once, she found herself traversing a long abandoned battlefield, no dead bodies in sight, but rusted, broken weapons strewn about. Shields left to rot in the fades shallow puddles. She found herself a small dagger here, in a decent condition. It felt good in her shaking hands, and gave her more comfort then a weapon should.

Magic had never been her forte, instead she had been a hunter who had grown traversing forests and wilds with a bow or blades at the ready. Even after she had lost her arm to Solas and the anchor, and a bow was no longer viable, she had taken to daggers as her weapon of choice. Somehow holding the battlefields’ weapon made her feel more sane, and ended up helping her end a few demons who had gotten too close for comfort.

After much wandering, talking to herself, slaying demons with her one good arm, and doing whatever this was to survive, she came across the broken ruins of what could only be considered a library. Broken shelves and stone bricks, papers with inconceivable writing smudged across them, and to her delight, ink. One vial of ink. It reminded her of the ink her Keeper had used to mark her skin with vallaslin. The vallaslin she had let Solas wipe from her.

Part of her regretted it. Not the whole branding her as a slave part, but at least with the vallaslin, she had some reminder of her past.

She stared at that ink bottle for too long before making up her mind. She uncorked the glass vial, took her dagger in her mouth and slowly dragged it across the palm of her hand. Her body cried at the pain, already too exhausted to keep losing more, but she ignored it. The blood beaded and fell into the ink, as she had remembered seeing her Keeper do it. She took the mixture to the nearest puddle of fade water and peered into it.

Her reflection was as wild as she felt. She tried not to think about it too much, and instead dipped the tip of her dagger in the blood ink and poised it to her face.

She paused.

What design should it be?

She thought of the design she had originally had, and she knew she would be able to trace back the patterns like they had never left her skin, but it wasn’t right. Her stomach sank with the idea of marking herself with one of the Evanuris’ vallaslin, claiming to be one of their slaves when she was owned by none.

There was only one person her heart had ever been a slave to.

Solas, _Fen’Harel_ , never had vallaslin designed for his worship and slavery, instead finding the blood writing to be repugnant and vile. So, as she slowly, painfully, carved the ink into her skin in a mimic of the patterns she had seen him doodle across his notebooks idly, she took a sort of sick fascination with the thought that she would be the first to hold vallaslin of Solas’ design. Part of her felt pleased to spite him, creating what he had so vehemently hated, after all he had deserved it for banishing her to _wherever_ this was. But another part of her did it to remember. If one day, her mind may fail her, and all traces of his memory were gone from her consciousness, at least her skin may still hold onto a piece of him.

_All be damned. She still loved him. Even after everything._

She sat and stared at herself when it was finished. And _oh did she cry_. And cry, and cry, and yell, and scream and thrust her fist upon the water. She had never really had time to process what was going on, what with her need to survive, repeating her friends memories, scavenging for signs of humanity and slaying the demons that hunted her. It was all too much, and the more she searched, there was less hope for a way out.

Clutching her burning face and new vallaslin designs, she walked into the fade again.

* * *

 

Time had passed her by endlessly again, and she was wondering about Stroud, abandoned alone in the this place to fight the Nightmare and the fade all alone like she now was, when an orb of radiant light flew by her.

At first she thought it was just her eyes playing tricks on her, until another one circled around her, almost as if it was curious of her very presence in the fade, before zooming off after the first one.

She didn’t know what it was, but it was _something_ , and that was enough to send her running after it like her life depended on it. Because maybe it did? Or maybe this was another sort of trap set up for her to fall into. Either way, she was going to find out.

The lights were fast, and her decaying, fade-torn body struggled to keep up. _Stop. Stop. Stop_ , her legs begged but she did not listen. She was lucky that more drifted by for her to follow, or she surely would have lost their trail.

They lead her across hilltops of the fade, jumping across floating rocks that threatened to fall, and past a number of demons, that seemed to hiss and back away from the lights. She was sure that this in itself was telling. If the demons avoided this, shouldn’t she also? The thought didn’t stop her from following though.

Her running came to a halt when she found where the lights had been leading her.

In the side of a large mountain lay a gaping hole, opening up to a cavern that spiralled into the fade’s underbelly, but that was not all. Lining the opening of the cave was plant life; living, breathing plants, something she had never seen in her encounters of the fade. Glowing, spotted mushrooms, dense ivy crawling the walls, and even odd-coloured trees growing out of the cracks in the stone.

The lights swirled around the entrance and then around her before diving into the cavern. She could almost hear them calling to her.

Mesmerized, and more then curious, she took off after them.

The cave was dark, but she had Elven vision that aided her along with the soft glows of the lights and plants. The path curved deeper and deeper into the earth, and the deeper they went, the warmer she felt. She hadn’t realized she had been so cold until the waves of warmth settled on her like a blanket. It made the _sick_ settle down in her body just a little.

The end of the sprawling tunnel drew near, she could tell, from the broadening size of the tunnel into something much larger. She crept forward carefully, peaking around the corner into the main cavern. Her breath caught in her throat.

There, slumbering amidst the glowing globules of light, the luminescent mushrooms and array of trees, was the largest dragon she had ever seen. Larger then any she had slain with Iron Bull, thrice the size or more. It had beautiful, shining black scales that seemed to shine other colours when the light hit them. It’s eyes were closed and its head lay perched on its claws.

_What was a dragon doing here?_ She thought.

So far she had only seen demons here, so the chances were that this was another. One that she could not so easily defeat with her measly dagger, or at all for that matter, even with all the gear she had once had. The sickening thought of the Archdemons that had started the Blights crossed her mind.

She realized that maybe, _definitely_ , this had been poor decision making on her part, and took a quiet step back. Before she could go bursting back up the tunnels though, a voice filled the air.

“Ahh, so you finally came to join me?” The voice spoke in common, but sounded as if a snake were to talk, airy and hissed. “I was wondering how long it would take you to find me. Much too long,” It mused, “I fell asleep in boredom.”

She froze in her spot as two massive dragon eyes slowly opened to peer at her, their colour matching that of the fades skies.

It takes her a moment to gather that a whole damn dragon was talking to her.

“You… You were expecting me?” She says, voice trembling for some reason. Most likely fear.

The dragon’s head slowly raises, far beyond her reach.

“I felt your arrival here long ago. It was only a matter of time before we crossed paths.” The dragon practically hummed, the smell of campfire filled the air.

She felt so many questions fill her head, swatting at one another to decide which was the most important. Was she really going to talk to a dragon? Then again, was that so odd to her now after the events of her life.

“Long ago? How long have I been here?” She decides to ask, though she isn’t sure she wants to know the answer.

The dragon seems amused by this, as if the tiny little elf girl shaking before her is so very simple and predictable.

“Time is not so linear here, though I am sure you already know this.” It considers, “I have been here much longer then any, but relative to time in your world… I would wager a few thousand years or more?”

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt like she was going to choke. _Thousands_? Sure it had felt endless, but she had never thought she had been here that long. Maybe a few years, not centuries. Her body felt like each thousand of years dropped onto her like lead weights. What had happened to the people of Thedas then, in those thousands of years that she had been away? Where was Solas now? Had he truly succeeded in going back in time to alter the world? Would she recognize the worlds future if she could go back and see it now?

She was spiralling. She needed to control herself.

The dragon seemed to sense this and _almost smiled_.

“Come sit child, and I will answer what I can.” It grumbles contently, and she didn’t know why, but the invitation didn’t seem like a threat, or a trap. Plus, the offer of answers was too enticing to pass up, so she slowly walked to the dragon and lowered herself to sit on her knees before the giant creature.

The world was quiet for a moment, besides the sounds of the whooshing of air every time the dragon exhaled. It looked at her with a curious mirth, waiting patiently for her questions.

“So we’re the only things that exist here?” She asks after some time.

If a dragon could shrug, that’s what it had done. “Amongst the hoards of demons that drift aimlessly.”

“But if this is the fade, where are the spirits? Curiosity spirits? Wisdom, Valour? All I have seen are those demons.” She asks.

“Ah, but those demons are the spirits you seek,” It answered simply.

Her heart came crashing down.

Of course, some deep part of her mind had always wondered just that, but she never had the heart to believe it.

“How?” Was all she could manage.

“Your lover failed.”

And then her heart was twisting instead, because _of course_ he did. Nothing was ever simple in their lives.

“When he tried to tear down the veil between your world and the fade, your world could not withstand it,” It continues, explaining all this like it was some kind of common knowledge, and not mind shattering at all. It probably wasn’t all that surprising to a giant, ancient, magic being. “The fades power had been growing all the time it was locked away, and the waking world could not catch up. When he released it, the fade overtook it all until it was all that was left. The people, the spirits, they either turned to ash and dust, or crumbled into demons.”

She felt like she was going to be sick, or sob, or both, thinking of all the demons she had cut open with her battlefield dagger. Had they been demons that existed before, or were they people she knew, trapped in a body of abomination?

She struggles to form the next words. “Then why… Why am I the only person here? How did I survive.”

“Ah,” The dragon grinned, as if she was finally asking the right questions. “You see, that is because you were touched by the fade, more then once it seems.”

The dragon wasn’t wrong, this was her third time entering the fade physically, something no one would ever have expected anyone to be capable of. But she wasn’t the only one to ever enter the fade. Hawke, Stroud, Sera, Iron Bull… Solas. They had all been with her when she pulled herself into the fade for a second time. Then again… by the time Solas sent the fade crashing down around them, they had all been dead, she was certain. And Stroud, if he hadn’t been cut down by the nightmare, the fades poison was sure to have plagued him to death like it so threatened to do with her. That didn’t explain her lost love though… And part of her heart hammered with the thought that he may be out there, as lost and wandering as she was.

“Solas…” She whispered, the name sharp on her tongue, “He’s been involved with the fade his whole life. He came with me.”

The dragon nodded slowly, “And at one time, when he was younger, the fade and its magic favoured him… But then he went and sealed it all away. The fade holds nasty grudges.”

So he was gone. Gone, gone. Either obliterated into remnants of a battlefield, or some kind of dark demon crawling the fade. She swallowed her bile and told herself to push it down. All the pain and confusion and terror she felt. Think about something else.

“The fade can hold a grudge?” She asks, “You’re saying that the fade is alive?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” The dragon says simply.

Right. _Why shouldn’t it be?_ In a world where ancient magisters could tear the sky apart with orbs, and long sleeping elves could seal away false gods, why wouldn’t the fade have some aspect of life?

“How did you come to be here?” She asks instead.

The dragon laughs then, it fills the cavern and makes the heat rise. The mushrooms glow brighter and the trees begin to shimmy. “The fade holds many mysteries, none that could be explained so simply.” It says with levity.

So she wouldn’t be granted an answer to that, it seems.

As if detecting her thoughts, the dragon says, “Aye, there is some questions I cannot answer for you, but instead I might offer a wager in turn.”

“A wager?” She repeats. A wager, _with a dragon?_ She could practically hear Dorian’s voice in her mind saying this would surely not end well. It hadn’t for the Tevinters.

“I do not have much power anymore, but there are still some things I can do.” It’s face actually seems to twist into that of pain. But just for a fleeting moment.

“What are you offering?” She asked, her interest thoroughly peaked. What could a Dragon give to her in a destroyed world where nearly nothing existed?

“You are dying.” It comments, and suddenly her body remembers the itch of her blood, the ache of the air around her, the twitch of her fingers.

Her eyes cast down to the ground and she clenches her first.

“You could heal me?” She asks, but she’s not sure that’s a wager she would want to make. What was the point in surviving any longer here, where she would just continue to grow insane.

“That, among _other things._ ” The dragon leans close then and breaths hot air across her face, fluttering her hair back. It whispers, as if a secret, “I can return you. To a time where the fade and the world were one, when spirits danced through life instead of demons. A time where you could change everything.”

A way out.

“Is that possible?” She asks, eyes snapping up to level with the dragon.

The dragon does not move away, its flaring nostrils still causing wind to whip around her. “Not for I. For I am too large, too magnificent, and yet too weak. The amount of magic it would take me to return exceeds what I can accomplish… But you, a small girl with so many possibilities, _that_ I could do.”

“How far back?” She whispers in disbelief.

“Dragon kin have different names for the times then yours, but I suppose you would know it as Elvhenan.” It hums, deep and echoing.

The time of Elvhenan. The time of Evanuris ruling across Thedas with grand magics, before going mad for power and being sealed away by Fen’Harel. That’s where Solas had been intending to go back… That’s where Solas would be. Albeit, a younger version of himself who would possibly know nothing of her or the future he would cause, the world he would destroy. She could go back, and stop it all? It almost seemed too good to be true.

_It wants something in return._ Her mind whispers to her.

“What would you ask in exchange.” She asks, sceptical.

The dragon laughs again, right in front of her kneeling body. The feeling of it reminded her of coals sparking, iron melting, freshly cut gems, forest fires and raw power.

“Does that matter?” It asks, “If you stay here, you wither away in a torment of the fades design. If you accept, I will send you back healed, with the power to change it all. When I come to call in the debt, you will do anything I ask of you.”

As far as deals went, this was probably the most risk she had ever been faced with.

She could be signing her life away to this dragon, to go back only for it to tell her to kill someone, or destroy Elvhenan herself, but what other choice did she have to make? If she had the option to save Solas, she would always take it. No matter the cost.

“Fine.” She whispers. “Send me back and I’ll do whatever I can. How do I return?”

If worse came to worse, she would find some way to break the pact when she was back in the land of the living. Not that the dragon had to know that.

“Not so fast.” The dragon muses and pulls its head back. It raises one of its long white claws that could easily tear her in two, and just when she thinks it might, it carves a long scratch against its own flesh. A long clean wound that began to gush a deep black ooze. “Dragons seal pacts with blood.”

She thinks of the dark spawn, of the arch demons, of the Grey Wardens and their Joining rituals. But she cannot think for too long because the meaty palm of the dragon, covered in the blood comes forward expectantly.

The dagger on her hip is pulled by her hand and placed in her mouth. She carefully opens the cut that had scared from her previous vallaslin wound, her own red blood pouring to the surface then.

“Shall we seal this deal then, young one?” The dragon grins, looking wrong and evil and marred on its face.

She hears Josephine’s voice yell at her to not make deals with the devil, but its too late.

She hesitantly reaches her hand forward to the dragons hand, larger then her whole body and then some, and places her own bleeding gash against it.

At first, nothing happens, but suddenly the most severe pain she had ever felt shattered in her palm. She screamed out in pain, watching as suddenly the veins in her arms begin to grow black, the dragons blood snaking through her own veins and filling her. She screams and cries, but can’t move. It’s too much, its tearing her apart and killing her, thrumming and pulsing in her veins with too much power. It is more agonizing then the anchor had been when it tried to rip her asunder.

The dragon watches her sob and scream, meanwhile laughing joyfully at the scene. Watching with those green venomous eyes as the black blood swam up the pathways of her veins into her neck and face, down her torso and into her legs. When the dragons blood hits her heart she feels a twisting, crunching, eviscerating anguish so hot and burning with misery that she cannot even call out in pain.

Her eyes clench shut, and when she opens them again, its all gone. Her veins look the same as they were, no longer black and throbbing. The pain subsides then too, feeling as if it had never happened in the first place.

The dragon retracts its hand and smiles, “It is done.”

“What… _What did you do to me?_ ” She gasps, the tears still falling despite the end of the pain.

“I saved you, gave you the power to go on… And now its time for you to do your job.” The dragon cackles. “A deal well made. I will see you again.”

She wants to yell at the dragon and demand answers from it, but before she can, she’s falling.

In the blink of an eye, she’s falling down, down, down through the green fade, and then she’s falling through something else, something blue.

Air whips around her face, peeling at her skin. She tries to breath as she looks around but her lungs struggle in the rush of it all. She looks around her to the vast expanse of blue and, clouds? And then she looks down, and sees below her so much. Trees and plants, green and alive. Rocks, rivers, a forest. Part of her swears she sees buildings and a village… But that would mean…

She’s back.

The dragon hadn’t lied to her, it had sent her back, falling through the skies of Thedas. Her heart soars for the first time in forever.

And then she hits the ground. And it all goes black. Again.


	2. The Waking World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, and thank you all for your kind words and interest.
> 
> Just a few things to note:
> 
> 1\. I made Lavellan ambiguous in this fic. I have my own personal idea of what she looks like, but I’m sure all of you have different tastes, so its up to you how she looks!
> 
> 2\. Solas also, is how I want to see him look in Ancient Elvhenan, and what makes sense to me, but that doesn’t mean you have to imagine him the same way! Its just a guideline that I provide in case you are interested. Shout out to the amazing artists like Nipuni and more that have inspired his look.
> 
> 3\. This story is rated explicit for a reason. There may be some creepy-ish scenes and such, as is the territory of Dragon Age, not everything is peachy sweet. And I eventually plan on writing some NSFW content, but that will be marked on the chapter and I can provide a SFW copy as well if people are interested.
> 
> Anyways, thats my shpeal. I hope you enjoy this long chapter. More Solas to come.

She woke to waves of cold energy washing over her.

It wasn’t unpleasant, as one may have thought the cold might be, but instead of feeling like the biting frost of snow, this felt more like pressing a cool cloth to a fevered forehead. It was refreshing and soothing, slowly easing away the throbbing ache of her body.

For a moment, her mind is just complacent with laying there, feeling the tingling energies numb her exhausted body. Until her mind snapped to full consciousness and she realized she didn’t know where _there_ was.

Her mind begins racing instantly, trying to remember what had happened. She had been falling; falling from the sky. From the fade. _Right_. Images of her memory flowed through her; the end of the world, the agonizing journey of the fade, the demons she had fought, the lights leading her through a winding path to a cave, then a dragon. A dangerous wager. The most pain she had ever felt as her blood turned black. Then… Then what? If she had been falling, she must have hit the ground somewhere.

She struggles against the weight of her eyelids, but they didn’t want to budge. There is a soft gasp to her right at her twitching, and her head instinctually leans that way just slightly. Someone was there?

Whispers suddenly began to fill the room. One voice at first, then two, maybe three? They were all hushed, murmuring back and forth to one another. It was hard to hear everything they were saying, but she soon realized they weren’t speaking in common. Yet, it still seemed familiar to her.

 _Elvhen then_ , she realizes.

She tries to focus on what little she can hear, but whatever dialect they were speaking, it wasn’t Dalish. Painfully, she recalled, it sounded more like the words Solas had used to speak in Ancient Elvhen to her, trying to teach her the root of where her language had been born.

In the ten years between ending Corypheus, finding Solas again, the Winter Palace debates, and the end of the world, she had done much research in way of Ancient Elvhenan. She had poured through old ruins and temples, scoured libraries from Ferelden all the way to the Tevinter Imperium. She had been searching for any hint, clue, puzzle piece she could find to aid her and the Inquisition against Solas and his rising rebellion. In doing so, she had picked up on many words and their meaning. Solas’ hadn’t been wrong to tell her if her heart was truly in it, decoding and differentiating the Ancient dialect wasn’t too hard.

“ _It lives_!?” She hears one person hiss, a mans voice.

“ _I told you it would_!” Another voice, this one female.

“ _You did not! And she’s obviously a woman_.” The third voice chimes in, another female voice, though this one sounded much less nervous and unsure. It almost sounded light and joyous, curious maybe. “ _She’s not a thing_.”

“ _Are you certain_?” The man said, and then said something else she didn’t quite understand or even hear before saying, “ _It fell from the sky._ ”

“ _It could be dangerous. It’s so… broken. It’s all weird_.” The second woman again, sounding slightly disgusted. She is almost offended at such accusations. Then again, whoever this person was, wasn’t entirely wrong. She wasn’t exactly _whole_.

“ _Dangerous or not, its not up to you! She will be_ …” Says the cheerful woman, before the voice drowned out again. “… _must take her to Our Lady._ ”

Growing tired of them speaking as if she wasn’t there, when she was, in fact, right beside them, she decides to move. It takes almost all her strength to open her eyes, only to groan in pain at the light that beams into them at once. A few blinks and she realizes she’s staring up at the sky again, but through a windowed sunroof. The sky is bright, and the sun overhead, signalling the middle of the day.

She lulls her head to the side and sees them there. Three people. Actual people. Elves to be exact. The only man of the room is rather tall and has long black hair that fell to his shoulders but was tied back in a small knot at the base of his skull, with sharp features and brown eyes. His face was covered in black inks, a vallaslin she recognizes. Mythal.

One of the two women of the room also had the same vallaslin on her face, though it was white, standing out against her dark skin and dark eyes. Her hair was also black, and slightly bushy. Her face was all twisted up in a weird expression as she stared at her.

The two of them seemed to be the defensive people of the group, and they stood, almost as if shielding themselves, behind a third woman. This one had short pixie brown hair that flicked up in spikes every which way, as If it couldn’t be tamed. She had plump lips that pulled into a nervous sort of excited grin, and vallaslin that matched perfectly with her sea foam green eyes. She suspected that this was the one who had been kinder then the others in their judgement.

She ponders then, how long had it been since she had seen people? Thousands of years, apparently.

Her throat aches as she opens her mouth to speak, and nothing but another pained groan falls out. The bright girl’s face instantly falls and she rushes forward in an instant, hushing at her and cooing. One of the woman’s hands presses against her forehead and the cooling energy washes over her again, while the other hand makes some sort of notion in the air. From what she can see, water from a nearby basin is pulled through the air in a small stream and directed into her mouth. _Magic_ , she thinks. She can’t remember the last time she had drank, because she really hadn’t needed to in the fade, but now the urge to guzzle the water down outweighed any other questions she had. She drank graciously until the stream ran out.

“ _Its alright_.” The woman whispered, looking at her cautiously. Not because she thought she was in danger, but rather it seemed like she was concerned. “ _Can you understand me_?” She says this slowly for her, and she nods back. A smile pulls at the corners of the sea-green eyed woman’s mouth again. She says something in Elvhen that she doesn’t understand then, making her feel sort of like a buffoon, but she gets the gist when the woman starts urging her up into a sitting position.

“ _Thank_ …” She tries out, her throat feeling much better, “ _Thank you._ ”

“ _It speaks!_ ” The man suddenly shrieks and ducks behind the dark skinned woman with wide eyes, clutching her shoulders like he might use her as a shield.

“ _Of course she does! She’s a person_!” Green Eyes snaps back at him. She doesn’t know this elvish woman at all, but she’s starting to get a feeling she might like her. At least she was more than an _it_ in her mind.

“ _Our Lady said she wanted to see her when she awoke…_ ” Dark-skinned woman huffs, smacking the mans hand off of her.

“ _I’ll do it_.” The other women nods, assuredly, and then turns to her, “ _Are you well enough to walk_?”

Honestly, her body is still slightly shaky, but it was the best she had felt in a long time. She had fought in worse condition, she could certainly walk now. She nods to her in response and slowly swings her legs over the cot she had been laying in. Finally taking a moment to look around, she notices that wherever this was, she was in some sort of healing ward. Other cots spanned the room, though all were empty at the moment, a good sign she was sure. There was plants and herbs growing all over the spiralling white marble walls, up to where a glass domed roof shared the sky. It was quite beautiful.

When she slides from the bed and stands, she also becomes uneasily aware that she was not in the clothing she had been in within the fade. Instead, now, she was wearing long blue robes comprised of swishy, airy pants and a matching tunic. They had little gold and white stitching designs along the hems. Her feet were bare against the cool marble flooring. It would appear that someone had washed her body while she was unconscious. Or maybe they had used magic? She hopes it was magic. Not that she was at all embarrassed by her body, but the act of someone else washing her while she was unaware… Not so comforting.

The green eyed woman watches her like a hawk, like shes expecting her to fall over at any moment and she would have to catch her. Little did this woman know she had fought demons, dragons, undead gods, and had lived to tell the tale.

When she was certain not to fall over, the spiky haired girl turned and lead her over to the doorway. The two other elves quickly stepped away, looking at her missing arm, and then her face, and then back to her arm. Their faces looked like Josephine’s when she spotted a bug within her chambers. They were glad to see her go.

“ _This way_.” The woman gestures and leads her down the hallway at a slow pace. She couldn’t help but be gracious of it. She would have never complained but walking on solid ground again was different then in the fade. In the fade she had felt light as air, like she could jump and flip upside down and walk along rocks hovering above her. Here, her feet were rooted to the floor. She was more then fine with that.

The architecture of the halls were similar to healing room; sprawling, high ceilings with white marble walls, though these ones were adorned with golden braziers that glow with fire, and there was also beautiful, shining tile mosaics against the walls depicting all sorts of things. There was one mosaic of the night sky with stars, another of an island that floated between the earth and the sun. The most prevalent theme though, was of the same woman.

Long honey blonde hair like golden spindles of thread, eyes that blazed like golden flamed orbs, perfect and unmarked skin. Each art piece depicted her in a different position or doming something different, but each was stunning in its own right. And they reminded her of something. Someone. She had seen similar artwork when she had been in the almost broken ruins of a temple in the Arbor Wilds.

Mythal?

Now that she thought about it, these walls and halls looked shockingly similar to said temple as well, albeit they were whole now, and not tarnished, but the look of them was near identical. She looked again at the woman with the green eyes, and at the vallaslin on her face in Mythal’s design. Then, again, thought of the Elvish words they had used.

_Our Lady._

Did that mean? No. _It couldn’t be._ Could it?

She was in Ancient Elvhenan, when the Evanuris had been in fruition and had ruled across Thedas, but for her to have been pulled form the fade and land right in the Temple of Mythal? It was improbable… And yet, with her track record, completely probable too.

Answers didn’t take long for her to find, as she’s lead to a set of giant golden doors, the size that the grand entrance doors at Skyhold had been. Two guards were stationed outside in gold and silver armour, more for show and uniform then protection it seemed, as the armour looked like it could easily be pierced with a sharp enough stick. They walk forward to meet them when they get close, and both of them look at her in confusion. _At least it wasn’t disgust_ , she muses.

“ _Our Lady asked to speak with her when she awoke.. And now she is here._ ” The woman said, immediately seeming more nervous in front of the guards. She wrung her hands awkwardly in front of her.

The guards didn’t say anything, just nodded and moved to the doors, both pressing their hands against the designs carved into it. Their hands glow briefly with energy before the doors begin moving themselves, opening on their own. It opened to reveal the most extravagant indoor garden she had ever seen.

The floor was a mix of grasses and marble, carving a path into the centre of the room that hosted a large pavilion in the centre. The roof was glass again, letting the brilliant rays of sun cast down into the room. Trees and plants, some of which she recognized as elf root, and sweet smelling flowers she had never seen before all lined the room. Birds and animals could be spotted grazing lazily through the greenery. There was even little rivers running amongst it all. She was so in awe that Green Eyes needed to nudge her to get her moving again.

They walked into the garden, following the path to the pavilion. Underneath was exquisitely crafted furniture. Long, gold day beds and a table covered with all kinds of foods, and raised above it all was a white marble throne, inlaid with gold and blue patterns.

Sitting in it, was none other then Mythal.

She was just as radiant in person as the mosaics had portrayed, if not more, and she sat there with a serene expression on her face as they approached.

Green Eyes instantly went into a deep bow before the Evanuris, showing her respect. She wasn’t sure if she was expected to do the same, so she just nodded slowly in turn.

Mythal nodded back and spoke, voice sounding like metal wind chimes in the breeze, “ _Thank you Nienna, you have done well.”_

Green Eyes, Nienna’s, eyes go wide and she blushes like a madwoman. She bows again and shakes her head, “ _It is but my duty._ ”

The Evanuris chuckles softly at the girls fluster, “ _You may stay while we speak._ ”

Nienna looks shocked to have been given such an _honour_. She quickly steps to the side and folds her hands in front of her, trying to look regal. Its kind of adorable.

Mythal’s attention then turns to her, and she has the full gaze of one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, Evanuris staring her down.

“My name is Mythal,” The Evanuris begins, and she wants to say _I already know that_ , but doesn’t. “ _Who are you, and how did you come to fall from my skies?_ ”

She winced. What a loaded question already.

The woman was staring at her with such a calm expression, but her eyes, her eyes, they looked like they could see right through her. What was she supposed to tell her, she dreads. Ah yes, she came from the future of their world that had been utterly shattered and destroyed by one of their own after splitting their world in two and falling asleep for a thousand years before waking up and deciding that it was all wrong? No. But she was also sure any amount of lies she could come up with would be seen through and land her in worse trouble. So, she decides not to lie, but not particularly give the whole truth.

 _“I came from the…_ ” What was the word for fade in Ancient Elvish. She wracked her brain but either she had never learned it, or her mind was blanking at the worst time. She could barely speak Dalish Elvish as it was, much less the Ancient register. The honour of their language had been stripped of them in the war between humans and elves, and their cast into slavery. Clan Lavellan had tried desperately to cling to what little knowledge they had left of it, and for that she knew a bit more then a normal Dalish Elf, and studying could only give her so much knowledge on actually producing words. She was resigned to just use the common word for it after all, “The Fade.”

Mythal’s brow furrowed in confusion at the word, and she looked to Nienna as if the woman would have an answer to what it meant. Nienna looked like she was about to explode.

 _“I am unsure My Lady… She spoke in an odd tongue within her sleep as well.”_ Nienna explained, waving her hands around rapidly as she spoke. “ _Wherever she hails from, I do not think Elvish is the language they speak. Though… She seems to understand most.”_

Mythal hums then, with interest, and raises her hand to beckon her forward. She hesitates for a moment, wondering just what an Ancient powerful mage would want to do to her. Mythal’s face seemed to be patient, but her eyes were a different story, and so she quickly climbed up to the golden woman.

Mythal’s fingers are cool to the touch like Nienna’s had been, as they reach out and gently rest against her temple. She’s about to try to ask what Mythal was doing, when her brain suddenly felt like it was thrown from her body. Her eyes blinked rapidly as some kind of energy was electrified through her brain. Pieces of grand wisdom and knowledge fly through her head and find purchase there, like water to a sponge. It is incredible, amazing and whirling. It gives her a headache.

When Mythal’s hand pulls back, her eyes genuinely look entertained.

“Is that better?” She asks, and the words don’t sound like a misshapen puzzle pieces in her mind anymore. They fit perfectly. Had Mythal just taught her a language within mere seconds?

“Yes,” She answers earnestly, and she wants to ask how in the gods names had she done that?

“Then I ask you again; who are you, and why have you fallen from my skies?” Mythal asks.

She backs up a few steps, so she isn’t within physical range of the Evanuris anymore.

“I came from the fade.” She tries again, this time not sounding like an awkward child fumbling with their first words.

Mythal’s brow furrows again then, and her eyes narrow. “You come from the dreaming world?” She repeats. Then she leans forward, “That makes little sense child. The dreaming world and the waking world are the same. We live physically in the waking world, and in our slumber and meditation our spirits visit the dreaming world. There is no way for you to enter the dreaming world physically, unless you are a spirit yourself.”

She supposed it wouldn’t make sense to Mythal. She cursed herself for not coming up with some kind of lie.

“I can assure you, I am a person.” She insists, “I have a spirit of my own inside of me, and I was born with a physical body.”

“You do not feel as if you are the same as us though,” Mythal stares at her harshly. Being ostracized so quickly by the leader of this empire didn’t bode well for her, and she tried not to let the hurt of those words sink in. Mythal continued, “And yet, you wear vallaslin like one of The People, but one I do not recognize.”

Her hand instantly snaps up to her cheek. _Oh yeah_. And she now she realizes her decision, though at the time had been harmless, suddenly caused her much more danger.

“I… I am sure that my presence is alarming for you,” She says slowly, “But I can say with honesty that, though I do not particularity understand how I was sent there, I was sealed physically within the fade. I walked though it for a long time and received these while I was there. Falling through the sky had never been my plan.”

It wasn’t a lie. She had never expected to be thrust into the world again in such a way.

“And what of the one that calls you theirs?” Mythal asks, because in their society, vallaslin was the symbolism of slavery, markings that issued her to an owner.

The beautiful designs she had mimicked from his idle doodling burned against her skin. She had never belonged to anyone, not her mind or her soul, but her _heart_ had, and then again it may as well have just been the same. Some may say the mind controlled the heart, but when it came to _him_ her heart had betrayed her and took command.

“He’s… gone.” She says, barely above a whisper.

“You speak the truth,” Mythal replies, and its not a question. She must know what _gone_ meant.

The golden Evanuris takes her time to examine her, though it truly feels as if she’s staring _through_ her.

“Interesting.” She concludes, and her smile spreads across her face. “I would like to learn more about you. If what you say is true, there is still much we can learn from the beyond.”

So she wouldn’t be killed then. Not like she had been expected to, rather she thought maybe she would be thrown out of the temple all together and sent on her way. She had always been told by him that Mythal had been the best amongst the false Elvhen gods, but one never knew their fate when facing off with powerful people. It seemed that if she was to be questioned still, she would be staying for a while at least.

“I see you are tired, and your body did not take so quickly to the healing we could offer, so I will not ask much of you today,” Mythal explains and finally relaxes back into the throne again, “But I should tell you, I could offer you much in exchange for your compliance. The knowledge I granted you of our language is but the tip of the spear. Since what you say is true, and you have not lived in the waking worlds society in some time, the wisdom I could grant you would aid in your integration of The People. I could clear those markings of your late lord from your skin and start you afresh. Might we heal your scars and missing appendage as well.”

She felt like she was faced with the dragon once again, making dangerous wagers.

While the notion of knowledge was all too tempting, and the idea of having her arm again and fresh smooth skin would entice many, she was left feeling a little unsettled. She remembered Morrigan, entering Mythal’s Well Of Sorrows, being granted endless knowledge and power but in the end was tied beneath Mythal’s power through Flemeth. She couldn’t risk herself like that. Besides, she was already seemingly tied to an Ancient Dragon of the Fade. She couldn’t spread herself so thin.

As for the scars… It would be easy to just wipe it all away and have a fresh start, but each scar is a memory, no matter how painful. She can’t forget those memories because if she does, her friends, family and their world, _her world_ , would cease to exist all together. She’s knows shes the only one who can keep them alive now, in any sense of the word.

She had also grown used to having one arm. It had taken her so long to cope with the idea that things would have to be done differently, and she struggled every day to finally be okay with it. If she had them replace it, or grow her a new arm, well… It just felt unnatural.

And there was no way she was removing her markings.

“I apologize, My Lady,” She tries using the term, if only to sound respectful. “I appreciate the offer, truly, and I apologize if my visage offends you, but I hope you understand my reasoning for declining such an offer. Though my… _lord_ has passed, I wish to keep his memory alive on my skin.”

If Mythal was unpleased, she hid it well under her soft smile. Instead, she looked more intrigued.

“Very well,” She agrees, “As it is evident you have not a place to reside, I shall offer my abode as a new home, if not just a place of rest. You will be treated as one of The People, whether or not you bear my marks. And in turn, you will share your wisdom and journeys of physically entering the fade.”

It was the best offer she was going to get, and she had a feeling saying no wasn’t an option this time.

“Thank you, you have been very gracious.” She nods again, sweeping a little lower into half a bow. Her body whines at the movement, but its quieter then all the pain she has felt recently.

“Nienna, please show our new guest to one of the available rooms in the west wing.” Mythal says, not sounding like a demand but there was an air of authority to it.

The spiky-haired girl practically squeaked in agreement. “Yes, of course My Lady! Right away!” She bows again and then skitters up to her side, lightly touching her good arm to steer her back towards the door. As she does, the door is already opening to welcome four other newcomers to the chambers. They are all dressed in beautiful robes and and actual armour as they stride in, and they could have all been the most attractive people in the world, or had the heads of donkeys for all she knew, because only one of them caught her eye, making the rest of the world fade away.

Solas.

Her heartbeat instantly began hammering in her chest, and she almost forgot how to breath as she watched him lead the pack of Elves into the chamber. He looked slightly different from when she had known him, but only slightly, for it was certainly him.

He was wearing pristine white robes with golden armour plates and white wolf furs, carrying a long staff in his hands. His head was not bald, instead sported a traditional Elvish hairstyle; shaved short at the sides of his head, with long deep brown, almost black, hair down the middle in braids and dreadlocks. It had been pulled back into a ponytail at the back of his skull. His skin was slightly darker then she remembered, but she supposed that could have been due to the fact that the Solas from her time had just awoken from a light-less slumber of a thousand years. He was taller too, standing above the other elves with him. His face… It made her heart twirl more. It was the same as she remembered, if not a tad younger and not carrying as much weight to it. The same sculpted jaw, the straight, strong nose, the small divet in his forehead and though she was far away, she could still see those freckles kissing his cheeks. And of course, of course, those forever eyes with the sinfully long lashes and beautiful blue iris’ with a hint of purple swirling around the pupil. He had always been powerful before, she knew, but in this time he _looked_ it.

 _He was really here_.

Nienna shifted awkwardly beside her and nudged her again. She had barely realized she had stopped in her tracks.

Solas walked with the other three in tow, ahead of the pack. As he passed by, it was only but a mere second, but his eyes met hers in something like curiosity and intrigue. But it was ended all so soon and he was past her, heading to Mythal’s throne.

Her stomach flip-flopped and a thousand emotions swirled her being. She wanted to laugh in the face of fate, that it may see her defying it. She wanted to scream in disbelief, not truly feeling as any of this could be more then a dream. She wanted to run up and punch him square in the jaw for everything his future self would do to her if she didn’t change it all. Most of all though, she wanted to cry in relief at seeing him _alive_ again.

Nienna made a strange noise beside her and whispered, “Are you okay?”

She blinked rapidly and told herself to _get it together_! This was no place to be spiralling out of control. Luckily for her, Mythal did not seem to notice her stutter, instead she heard her joyous tone behind her.

“You have finally retuned.” She gleams.

“Yes, My Lady.” He replies.

_His voice is the same._

Mythal laughs at that, “You know you do not need to use titles with me, friend. How is Arlathan?”

“Preparations for Arlathvhen are well underway.” He replies, a smile in his voice.

She doesn’t hear anymore as she speeds out the carved golden doors and down a hall. Her feet feel like they are moving too fast, leaving her mind behind. She also realizes she doesn’t know where she’s going. Apparently not the wrong way though, because Nienna quickly strides beside her and leads her down the hall. They are silent for a long time, and she can’t stop her mind from replaying the image of him over and over and _over_ again.

Nienna breaks the silence.

“They all said you would die,” Gone was her nervous, shaking voice, and back was her chipper tone. It was like a birds song. “Your body was all twisted up and shattered. Our Lady Mythal was kind enough to grant us to offer aid to you. My comrades didn’t think it was possible. I was so happy I could bring you back again.”

Her attention shifts from Solas, not fully of course, because her mind was still reeling from the events, but enough to pay attention.

“So you were the one who healed me?” She says, remembering the cold healing energy that had washed over her when she was brought to consciousness. Nienna looked back to her and nodded with a shining smile. Her teeth are unusually straight, she thinks.

“The other two were too nervous to touch you, but you were _hurting_. I could feel it. They said that you might be dangerous, that because you were not whole you would hurt me. Or that because you fell from the sky and are different, you might be all wrong on the inside.” She explained, going off on a tangent as she practically skipped down the hallway and looked around. “But I knew, _I knew_. You have a soul that’s your own, and a body too. It may be a little worn, but you are one of The People.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. She felt like she had been dissected with just those words. She could also tell that the girl had meant no harm by it, and although she was rather blunt, she was trying to be kind.

“Thank you.” She said slowly.

“Of course!” Nienna chirped.

The walk was quiet again, and she stared at the ground as she thought, not much interested at perusing the mosaics anymore. It was then her turn to speak.

“May I ask you a question?” She looks at the girl.

“That already was a question,” Nienna chuckles but then nods. “Of course.”

“Who was that man… The one in the robes and wolf furs?” She sasked, and then made sure to specify. Then again, the others could have been in robes and wolf furs too, she just hadn’t noticed them. It seemed to be distinguishing enough, because recognition passed Nienna’s face.  
  
“Oh, that’s Commander Solas, Mythal’s chosen hand.” She says, and gets a nervous buzz to her voice again, like she was speaking of a person very high above her.

Ah, so his name was Solas in this time as well. She had never truly been sure what he had been called in his own time. He knew Solas had come before Fen’Harel, but he could have had names before that. Or he could have just lied to her, because that did not seem out of the ordinary either.

But wait, she thinks, _the hand of Mythal_?

“He’s a commander?” She asks.

Nienna nods, “The best. Mythal hand picked him, and he wasn’t even training to be a guard either.”

“What was he training to be?” She persists.

Nienna shrugs. “I don’t know… That was before I had been born.”

 _Oh_.

This meant a few things. First, Solas was someone of high rank in Mythal’s court, especially if he had been hand chosen beyond recruits who had most likely been vying for the opportunity all their lives. She had known he had been close to her, from her years of investigating his life, but she never would have thought of him as a Commander. Cullen would have a fit if he knew.

It also meant that either Solas was very old, or Nienna was very young. Or both.

She wants to ask more, but Nienna suddenly halts in front of a door and motioned to it. “This will be your room! Its actually very nice for a guest. I’m just a few halls away too, so I could come visit you. If you want. First you should lay down and try to rest. Your body heals slower then most I know, even with the magic.”

She wasn’t finished asking her questions, but she supposes Nienna was right, now that she thought about it. She was used to a constant ache and exhaustion, but now that she finally had the chance to rest, she should dive at it.

She nods and goes to open the door but pauses and turns to Nienna again.

“You have been… kind to me.” She says in appreciation.

“Why wouldn’t I have?” Nienna asks with big, curious owl eyes.

She laughs quietly. She must have been very young then, in Elvhenan standards, or hadn’t gotten out much. There was much hatred in the world, no matter what time it was. All she can say is, “Your fellow healers did not show such a curtesy.”

Nienna sighs and shakes her head, “They will come around, I promise!”

“Goodnight Nienna.” She says, trying the name on her lips. Its pleasant to say.

“Goodnight!” The girl responds and skips her way down the hall cheerily, calling back, “Try not to wander if you can!”

And then Nienna is gone, and shes left to open up the doors.

The room is lavish for a guest. Her room at Skyhold had been grand, but this tops even that.

It was slightly smaller then Skyhold’s chambers but was an art masterpiece in itself. The walls were a soft blue, like baby bird feathers, and there was a large bed, the white frame carved from some light wood. The blankets were blue with gold stitching, like her clothing. There was a small seating area in one corner, and a desk in the other. Three large arched windows with colourful stained glass peered out into the blue sky. It seemed Mythal had a theme.

She walked over to the windows curiously though, and thought back to her own time in Mythal’s temple. It had been in the Arbor wilds, so how come she did not see any giant spiralling trees covered in moss and bugs?

Unlatching the window and carefully pulling it open, she leaned out the window and almost yelped in surprise.

There was nothing but air around her.

Looking down, way down, she could see the telltale signs of the infamous Arbor Wilds; sprawling expanses of forest and rivers and rocks. And she was far above it all, on a floating island. She laughed in disbelief, as if she was going crazy. Solas’ words echoed in her mind, telling her of a time when magic and the world had been one, when ideas like floating islands in the sky hadn’t been considered a deranged dream. It was all true.

Being a non-mage had made her too used to expecting the world to make sense without magic involved.

She leaned back inside and closed the door, breathing in astonishment. Elvhenan was truly _something_.

In her day then, when the magic had all been ripped from Thedas and held back by the veil, the Temple of Mythal must have come crashing to the ground, creating some of the damage she had seen when she walked its halls.

She shook her head in disbelief and amazement and walked over to the bed, climbing into it. It was sinfully soft and seemed to suck her in, surrounding her in soft blankets.

It was all so odd, all of it.

It felt like both yesterday and a million years ago that she had woken in that jail cell with Casandra interrogating her for the mark on her flesh. And now look where she was! Laying in the softest bed she had ever felt, in a floating temple to an ancient Dalish god that was really just an all too powerful mage of ancient Elvhenan with her dead love still alive and different but the same, and somehow, _somehow_ , she had to make both sense of it all, and find out how to change it.

With those intrusions wracking her mind, it wasn’t too long until sleep pulled her under.

* * *

 

She was back in the Fade.

All around her were steep mountain peaks, and the green, _green_ sky of the beyond swirling like it was going to storm. She stood atop the tallest of them all.

Her body began to shake like a leaf instantly, begging any god that would listen to save her, send her back. She couldn’t be here again, _not again._

_No, no, no! This can’t be happening! Stop! Please!_

Her mind cried tears of grief, of urgency, or torture.

“Hello!” She screamed in Common as loud as she could. The growing storm above her kept swirling. She tried in Dalish Elvish, “Hello!” And then, for good measure, she shrieked in Ancient Elvish, “Hello! Someone, please!”

There was the sound of rocks falling below her and she looked down, heart hammering in her chest to see people climbing up.

“Thank gods,” She cried in relief and leaned down, trying to see who it was.

There was multiple of them and she recognized them all; Verric, Leliana, Dorian, Cole, all of her friends from the inquisition scrambled up the side of the mountain to her. She leaned down as far as she could without falling, reaching to give someone a hand.

Cassandra reaches her first, but what finds her grasp, isn’t a hand.

Its dark, black shadow in the shape of an appendage, oozing black ink and blood over her. She stares in horror and looks down at Cassandra who opens her mouth and a low, guttural growl starts to expand in her chest. Her eyes glow red, and her face begins to melt into shadow and darkness, turning into a demon before her. The rest of her friends are doing the same, cracking and melting and twisting into something _evil_.

She tries to pull her hand free, and they all laugh, terrible laughs that sound like shattering class and splitting metal. It makes her ears bleed and her head grow dizzy.

“S-Stop!” She struggles, trying, fighting against Cassandra who is now a gruesome abomination of herself and a demon.

The others are gaining on her, climbing to the top of the mountain, grabbing her legs, her hair, her ears and hips.

And together, they throw her from the mountain.

She tumbles into the darkness below, watching them reach the mountain and grin down at her as she screams and falls and falls. The last thing she hears is,

“ _You let this happen_.”

* * *

 

When she wakes, it is to sweat and gasping breaths. She looks around her to be sure shes not there anymore, that it wasn’t real… Because it felt _too real_.

She rolls her head to the side and looks out the stained glass window where the moon is still in the sky, though it didn’t seem long before sunset. She lay there staring at the arches of the ceiling, gasping, trying to catch her breath and thinking about everything that happened, losing herself to numbness.

_It was just a dream. Just a dream. A dream._

A mantra repeated over and over again as she calms herself. But she cant be sure. She cant be sure _what’s_ real anymore. She was in a world where anything could happen. She just hoped it wasn’t true.

When the sun begins to peak over the horizon and rise into the morning, there’s a knock at her door. She slides from bed begrudgingly, having been content to just stew in her emotions for a while. The door opens to the bright face, green eyes and matching vallaslin of Nienna. In her arms are a pile of new robes of various blues and soft greens, and balanced precariously on top is a tray of fresh steaming foods.

“Good morning!” She chimes, “I brought breakfast!”


	3. All New, Fallout of the Fade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all of your support! I am glad that there is a small handful of you that enjoy this story, as I am enjoying writing it. 
> 
> I apologize if chapters aren’t perfect, as I have no beta reader, and I am awful at editing my own work haha!

She doesn’t see Solas again for three days.

The first day after her fall from the Fade is greeted with Nienna bringing her breakfast and new robes. The girls cheery demeanour and ample chatter was more then enough to aid in distraction from her night terrors. As was the tour of the temple.

Nienna walked her around expertly, pointing out different rooms and gardens that she could visit; music parlours, the bath house, the herb gardens where their food was grown. While they walked, they passed many different elves on their way, a whole society living within the temple, donned with Mythal’s markings painted on their skin.

She quickly realized she was something of a mystery to these people. As she walked around exploring the Temple grounds, every elf they passed seemed to gasp or freeze or even back away. They must have heard of the _thing_ that fell from the sky into their world. No one dared approach, instead they whispered to one another about her arm, her vallaslin, her overall presence here in the first place, and they stared at her like she was some sort of dead thing in a museum. Except she was very much alive, and this seemed to confuse them more. She couldn’t help but feel as if she was still being seen as a bug, beneath all of their feet and yet they were too weary to squish her. Nienna didn’t seem to notice this though, and she wished she could have been that oblivious.

As far away as she was from him, and as different as their situations had been, she thought for a brief moment she could understand the Solas of her time better now. If only a little. Time had passed them by like both a second and a millennium. For him, through his Uthenera, the long sleep he had been thrown into after expending all his power. And for her, through walking the fade and surviving in an unkind world that threatened to end her. When they were both thrust back into the world they found it to be different, unusual, and completely unfamiliar. And the people within it were both their people and not, and they were regarded as oddities. She understood… But thinking about future Solas now would only make her feel heavy and tired, so she shoved those feelings under the surface and tried to pay attention to Nienna’s gesturing.

She found herself being surprised as the two of them entered a garden with a glorious fountain and birds pecking at the ground and water. Sitting on the lip of the fountain, drifting around the trees, basking in the sun’s rays were… Spirits. Actual, physical _spirits_ in all shapes and forms. One looked like a soft yellow light in the shape of a featureless head, arms and torso that trailed off into a wisp of its lower half. Another took a more humanoid form, with more elvhen features and body, but yet still made of incorporeal lights. Years of facing off against demons instantly had her hand itching for her dagger on instinct, only to find there was no weapon there. Nienna didn’t notice this as well, as she skipped forward and greeted one pleasantly.

“Good morning Faith! This is our new guest.” Nienna chirps happily, ushering for her to come closer. When she does, the spirit regards her almost _hesitantly_ , but allows her to approach nevertheless.

“Hello…” She says, a tad awkward herself. There was only a handful of times that she had ever had a conversation with a spirit, and most of which, Solas had done the talking. She had been raised to dislike spirits thinking of them only as demons, and he had taught her that whether they were a spirit or a demon was only up to how you perceived them. She had learned to appreciate and respect spirits, but she could never get used to them comfortably in the same way he had.

In her world, there were only a few ways spirits could physically enter the waking world, and none were pleasant. She vividly remembered demons and spirits falling from the rifts in the sky, and recalled stories of spirits possessing humanoid bodies, only to become demonic abominations. The flash of Cassandra from her dreams crossed her mind; dark and bloody and mutilated with a demon. _Push it down_ , she berated herself.

The spirit tilts its head as it looks at her, or well, maybe _look_ wasn’t the best term for the situation, as this spirit doesn’t have any eyes. Nor does it have a mouth, and yet soft words vibrate off of it and fill her ears.

“She is different, yet the same. She clings to hope when she knew there was none, and now there is so much she does not know how to hold all of its weight.”

Her eyes widen and she steps back from the spirit, as if doing so may stop it from peering so deep inside of her. She is painfully reminded of Cole, poor, sweet, innocent Cole who had been torn asunder when Solas had destroyed the world. The boy who had no greater goal in life then to bring happiness and calm to the wavering, exhausted souls of Thedas. She remembered many times when he had said similar things to her, and had tried to piece her back together after her lover had left her with his vendetta. Always hovering close, warming her cold heart.

She tries to keep the cruel tears from springing to her eyes.

Nienna apparently picks up on this fact and frowns, “Faith! You made her upset!”

Was she that obvious? She had always been so good at hiding her emotions, especially after all of the years she had spent with the inquisition. She swore she had not let anything give her away.

“I’m fine.” She says, hoping not to upset the spirit, if that was possible. “I just haven’t seen a spirit in some time… I was surprised.”

Nienna seems unsure as she scans her face, before sighing and nodding, giving in to the lie whether she believed her words or not.

The spirit made a ‘ _hmm_ ’ noise like it was pondering something, before leaving altogether, drifting away into the sky.

“I’m sorry if your friend was offended by me?” She tries, completely unsure of what had transpired.

Nienna shook her head, “Spirits are flighty and simple. They do not have hurt feelings because they can only be one thing; _themselves_. Faith can only be faithful, like Curiosity can only be curious.”

She thinks on this for a moment. Cole had been more then that; he had felt bits of sorrow and confusion and _hurt_. Then again, she supposed he was both spirit and not, mixed within the human confines of Cole. She supposed that’s how they looked at her here, both like them and not at the same time. It wasn’t too hard to understand then, why they stayed away.

“Well come on now!” Nienna says, snapping her out of her revelries, “We still have more gardens to explore!”

The rest of that first day was a lot more of the same; touring and listening to Nienna explain things like what flowers could be found where, and where her healing rooms were. Spirits drifted by her with some kind of peeked interest, but she tried her best to avoid them, lest they pick apart more secret pieces from within. The last thing she needed right now was for a Spirit to pluck just the right bits of information from her mind, the right emotions, and everything would become more of the same tangled mess that it always was. So no matter how intriguing they were, she swore off contact from the dreaming worlds kin.

The Elves continued to avoid her at all cost, shuffling away and giving her a wide berth as she came through. They tried to eat within the main meal chambers, but the amount of stares that pierced her skin made the food hard to swallow. Plus she couldn’t help but feel weary that _he_ would make an entrance to the dining hall, and she just wasn’t ready for that. Nienna was rather avid at sensing her discomfort, and suggested they take food to her room instead.

After the evenings meal, Nienna had excused herself to her duties of checking on any injuries and healing anyone from the days work. It didn’t seem that many people came in with fatal injuries or debilitating sicknesses, but Nienna took her job seriously nonetheless.

She was left then, to lay in her too-fluffy bed and stare at the ceiling in hopes that sleep would either evade her, or that there would be no dreams to speak of come morning. But of course both hopes were slashed.

That night she dreamt of sitting by the beautiful waters of Lake Callenhad, the sun setting and her feet swaying over the water from her seat at the edge of a Redcliffe Village dock. Behind her she could hear a bard singing from the Gull and Lantern tavern, soft and whimsical, followed by chants and laughter of drunken villagers after a long days work. It was peaceful and beautiful and calm. But nothing perfect ever lasted for her.

She felt it before she saw it.

Something from below the deep depths of the water slithered from the lake without but a noise and grasped onto her exposed leg. It felt sickeningly cold and damp, and _painful_. A sense of death shivered up her leg and into her spine. She looked down to see an all too pale hand grabbing her leg, pruned from the water and nearly translucent enough to see all the veins and bone beneath the surface. Long serrated fingernails that broke off in jagged bits pierced into her leg, drawing blood.

She instantly yelled, trying to pull her leg free, but to no avail. Her own hands came down to try and peel the gnarled fingers from her leg but it only made the nails dig deeper and deeper until they felt as if they were scraping her bones. She screamed and looked behind her for someone, _anyone_ to help. That’s when the clawed hand decided to pull with all its might and drag her beneath the murky depths.

The water hit her harder then when she she had been sent flying into the trebuchet at Haven. It felt as if she had suddenly been wrapped within a blanket of ice and agony. The wind was knocked from her lungs, bubbles flying up to the surface as she was dragged below. She tried to hold her breath though her chest ached at the excess of air, and she thrashed as best she could to try and loose the hands grip, but goosebumps rose on her flesh as suddenly another hand came and grabbed her. And another. _And another_ , until all around her there were ghastly pale hands dragging her deeper beneath the surface.

She saw them then. The faces. Connected to the hands were arms that travelled to torsos, which glided up into a neck and into their faces. The faces of her family. Of Clan Lavellan. Horrifically recognizable and not at the same time.

Her mother. Her father. Her Keeper. All of the members of her clan that had shared her blood or otherwise.

Gone was the sun kissed skin of days travelling through the valleys and forests of Thedas, and in place was the stark transparent white that reminded her of the monster fables she had been told as a child. Their eyes were misty and fogged over, their faces twisted into silent screams. She tried to scream back, but the air was gone from her, and instead water slid through her throat, burning her lungs and drowning her.

She thrashed and struggled, pulling, pleading with her eyes for her family to release her and send her back to the surface. But she kept going down, down, down. Deeper into whichever hell has been designed just for her.

Worst of all, no mater how much she sucked in the water that felt like knives carving her insides, no matter how close she swore she was to drowning, she would not lose consciousness. She was forever stuck to the torture of bloodied water, gnawing nails grinding her bones, the petrified torture of her families faces. It felt like an eternity.

Until a laugh reaches her ears. Deep and smoky. One she doesn’t recognize but hits her with a twinge of foreign familiarity.

And then she’s awake.

* * *

 

Day two is more solitary.

Nienna comes again bearing breakfast in the early morning. The girl easily picks up on her foul mood and rather then question it, tries to fill her exhausted silence with idle chatter. She can’t help but to wonder how the elvish girl can so easily read her emotions like she was a book. She can’t muster the energy to even ask though.

“I have to apologize,” the girl says after her last swallow of a beautifully cooked custard, “I have duties to attend to today. I will be unable to keep you company.”

A part of her is somewhat deflated at the thought. This girl, though it had only been a day and a half, had quickly become the only familiar person to her. She did not count her dead lovers past form, or the goddess that controlled this temple, for they were both far too confusing and out of her reach to even consider familiar. Nienna, on the other hand, was kind and didn’t seem to mind how out of place she was here. A grand juxtaposition from the other denizens of Mythal’s temple.

It’s not like she can ask her to stay though, so after breakfast was finished, the green eyed girl whisks off with their dishes, intended on going to pursue her healer duties, and leaving her alone to her own devices.

Rather then wander the halls only to be glared upon, she lays in her bed for hours on end, staring at the ceiling, pondering out the window and growing restless with her thoughts.

 _I’m here to change it all._ She thinks. _I do not even know how to begin._

She had yet to even gain her footing here in this time. She didn’t know how society worked here besides the tiniest of pieces she had formed together with all her years of research. All she truly knew was that in this time, magic was as easy as breathing, the Evanuris reigned supreme over elves who took their blood writing, and that eventually, if the course of time was unswayed, Mythal would kill a titan, drink its blood for its power, be killed by her family and cause Solas to seal them all away by tearing their world in two. The veil would be created, and Solas would fall deep into the dreaming slumber.

Somehow, she had to find a way to fix it, to carve a new path for the water to flow with her own bare hands.

She contemplated telling Solas, telling him everything that could happen to him in the future. Tell him of the monster he could become. Would that not stop the events of the future? Could it be so simple as that? But then again, would he trust her words? They had no fealty to each other in this time, no love or friendship or even acquaintanceship. She was foreign and odd and not like his people. He had no reason to believe a single word that fell from her lips. And telling him could also make things worse. _Much worse_. No. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t tell him, she decides. Besides, that would require talking to him, looking into his face as she speaks such painful truths, and she is absolutely certain, without a doubt, that she couldn’t handle that yet. Or maybe even ever.

Mythal, then?

She knows the woman expects answers from her; of how she came to exist physically in the fade, what she saw there, what knowledge she could provide them. The answers were powerful enough to shift the very fabric of time. Could _she_ trust Mythal? If she told her everything that would happen in the coming future, what would she do? It was impossible to tell, and the thoughts made her head ache and her stomach twist. What if she killed Solas? What if knowing all of this, of what Solas would do for revenge of her death, caused her to harm him in some way. To end him, like she had never been able to do despite the world hinging on it. Her stomach twisted harder, it felt like her blood was on fire and she wretched at that idea.

Solas from this age was not _her Solas_ , not truly. He was the beginnings of him. The canvas that her Solas would be painted upon, but she knew nothing of him here, whether or not he liked to paint or dream or do any of the things that made him _her Solas._ And yet… And yet she could not imagine him perishing. Though he may not be her version of him, the one she loved, the one she _still loves_ , he is still Solas. And any version of himself he was, she would never want to hurt.

She couldn’t tell Mythal then. Not yet. There was too many unknown factors in this world and she had to find _some way_ to change time subtly, without giving it all away.

The dark parts of her mind wondered just what would happen if she didn’t do a thing. What if she just lived her own life here, where it was safe, where she could rest and heal and find some way to live with herself. She could flee to some secluded forest and hunt and run through the trees, bathe in the rivers and just survive. Eventually the wounds would heal, the pain would fade from her body, and she could leave the heavy price of what becoming Inquisitor had wrought, forget about him and the torture his love gave, couldn’t she? Of course she knew it wasn’t that simple.

Everyone from her time would have to live that torture again and again. Maybe without her the Inquisition would be different. Maybe somehow they would find a way to kill Corypheus without her and the anchor. Maybe they would all make it out okay. Even then, she knew. She knew better then anyone that Solas would be too much to handle. He had been far too powerful for even her, and she had been a weight upon his heart. His only living weakness. Her friends, family, everyone of that time would be torn apart, turned to ash or doomed to live mutated lives as demons.

Not existing was still a better fate yet.

So of course, _of course_ she knew better then that. She was unable to give in.

She had never been one to give up. No matter how hard she fell, she always got back to her feet, no matter how shaky. She kept fighting. And when she finally had given up, fate had forced her into realizing giving up was never an option for her. She had to keep going on whatever mysterious path was ahead of her.

And of course there was the blood pact she had signed with a dragon to worry about.

Its all too much.

She nearly screams, but instead flails in her bed before peeling herself out of it altogether. She changes her robes, determined to go somewhere that would take her mind off of _everything_. Glares from Mythal’s elves was a far better alternative to her own invasive thoughts.

She was still barefoot, as she realized most people except guards were, and the tile was cold against her toes. At least it made her feel alive.

She walked through the halls Nienna had pointed out were for the guards and those training to be them. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was here, but when Nienna and her had walked through, she had heard the telltale signs of a training grounds. When she had been in her own time, training and sparring with her allies had been a good way to cope with Corypheus, Solas’ betrayal, the weight of being Inquisitor and all she was meant to do. So, she supposed maybe watching others train and fight would have a similar effect.

She briefly hesitated at the thought of Solas’ room being within these halls as he was a Commander, but then again, if he was so highly ranking, he would have better accommodations elsewhere.

The training grounds were… _prettier_ then she would have imagined. It was like an outdoor garden with fresh grasses and a river that swam across one side. Archery targets hung in beautifully blossomed trees and training dummies that were made of some metal glowed with magic, moving on their own. It was obvious this was a training ground for mages, and to further her observation, the few elves that were in the field were working with staffs. The rare few took to the bow, almost seeming like a backup, secondary weapon to their magic, though each shot seemed infused with a colourful light. No one seemed to even carry a blade. She couldn’t say she was too surprised, honestly. In a world where everyone had access to magic, it would be mad not to use it as the main form of assault, thus their training field mirrored such notions.

She hid in an archway, watching them move through stances with a simple grace. The style reminded her of Solas, though he had been quicker and sharper then these elves. Less flourish. Instead, he had always fought with such direction. _Violence was a means to an end_ , he had always said. He was one who would prefer a more amiable solution, but understood violence could be necessary when all other options were spent. If he was to end lives, he tried to make it as quick and clean as possible, even when he was destroying the world.

She wonders if he fought the same way now, or if his youth made him cockier and hot blooded. She hopes she won’t find out.

A few of the training elves seemed to spot her after a while of her skulking in the shadows, beginning to stop their training and whispering back and forth to one another and sending looks in her direction. Lelianna and Heir would have been disappointed in her. Her training as an assassin had taught her how to creep quietly and conceal herself, training which she had excelled at. And yet, in a floating temple full of magical ancient elves, her talents seemed worthless.

“Commander Solas, we greatly appreciate your guidance and instruction. We understand you are busy with Lady Mythal but-“ A mans voice echos down a nearby hallway leading to the training garden.

The name itself has her spinning on her heels and running in the opposite direction.

“It is no hinderance to me. The opportunity to see the new guard recruits is worth it.” Another voice, this one too familiar, and _far too close_.

Her heart hammers in her chest like it’s about to burst or stop in place. She can’t see him yet. She’s not ready to see him again, much less talk to him if it came to that.

She shoves open the nearest door to her and practically throws herself inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Her breathing is too fast and she tries to slow it enough to calm the ache in her lungs.

She knew she was being an imbecile. It was not as if the Solas of this time knew her or could easily suspect everything that had happened with just a glance… but if she were to face him, she couldn’t be certain which emotion would surface. Because quite frankly, she was an emotional mess. There was so many unresolved feelings swirling inside of her and she was afraid of what that meant. Would the sorrow of before bubble to the surface and make her cry as she looked at his face, would the anger stab forth and bite at him? She didn’t know.

Best to avoid him for now.

Her eyes turned to the room and she looked around to what seemed to be some sort of elegant armoury. Everything was displayed and organized pristinely, and most of the bows and staffs that were leaning against their holsters looked like they hadn’t ever been touched. She supposes that if any of the Evanuris liked to pick fights and battle, it wasn’t Mythal’s people.

She walked in deeper, looking around at the craftsmanship of the staves. Their power was lost on her, being a non-mage, but they were quite beautiful. Made of an array of colourful woods and precious metals and gems. They looked as if they would cost enough to build Skyhold thrice over. They were all masterful works of art that only made her sullen to the fact that this time was just _so different_ from her own.

Here they had the time and energy to create beautiful weapons with carvings and engravings. In her time she was lucky if Dagna could whip her up something even remotely this beautiful. These were not weapons of war, she decides.

In the corner of the room, the glint of something silver catches her eye. She pads closer and leans down, smiling to herself as she does so. In a simple glass case tucked away is a set of three short daggers with leather hilts. They were nowhere near as grand as the staves and bows in the room, in fact they were very simple in design for even what she had seen, but looked like they were made well enough. She suppose that they did have blades here after all, but they were of lesser importance to their battle style. Her hands itch for the touch of the silver metal and she debates back and forth whether or not it would be smart to open the case. Probably not.

She does it anyways.  
  
There is no magic trick or trap on the box as she opens it, but alas she looks at the daggers with a sense of awe and familiarity. She had always had daggers on her person in her future time period. Even at Skyhold when she was out of armour she had some small knives tucked in her boots and waistband. When she had been in the fade even, she had procured her battlefield dagger. It probably spoke volumes about her, but she felt comfort from having quick access to the weapons.

She gingerly reaches out with her only hand and slides a finger down the flat side of the blade. It’s far too shiny and polished. She runs her hand over the hold and grasps it, pulling it in front of her eyes for inspection. Simple but workable.

She knows she shouldn’t take it. She was already walking on thin ice with these people, and Mythal was still curious but untrusting of her. Being found with a weapon was probably not the best course of action for what she needed to accomplish. Consequences be damned though, she thinks as she stands and tucks the weapon into its sheath that had been resting in the case with it. She slides it into the waistband of her pants and rearranges the flowy folds of the tunic overtop.

After a decent amount of time pacing the armoury, hopefully waiting for Solas to be far enough away for her to make her escape, she peeked into the hallway hesitantly. Left. Right. No one seemed to be in the halls themselves. She could still hear the soft sounds of exploding, popping energies of spells and whooshing staff work that told her the elves were still training. Among the sounds was the familiar voice drilling them, telling hem to straighten their posture or fix their back legs stance and so on. It ran a cold sweat down her back.

She ran the opposite direction.

* * *

 

Nightmares wake her again on the third day.

More of the same, demons and darkness and the fade ever encroaching on her mind. Turning her into a monster, twisting her friends and clan into malicious abominations seeking her blood for revenge. Making her gut sink as she realized they could all be trapped in between times, _in between worlds_ , all because she could not end _him_ like she should have. It was her fault.

The dagger under her pillow gave her some sliver of solace, as she clutched it to her chest and attempted to quell the hyperventilation that came with the dreams.

Nienna brought breakfast again, this time just coming into the room skipping, not knocking like usual.

“Good morning!” Nienna chimed as she brought a tray of pastries to the small desk in her room.

She sat up slowly, pushing herself into a seated position with her only arm.

“Morning.” She replied slowly and wiped the sweat from her brow. “You don’t have to keep bringing me food. I am not deserving of a maid who waits on me.”

“I am not _waiting_ on you like some servant.” Nienna shrugged, “I’m doing this as a _friend_?”

The word friend is said tentatively, like she’s trying some kind of forbidden language. She thought on it moment; could she consider Nienna a friend? It had only been a few days, and they barely knew anything about each other. It had taken her months to become true friends with Cassandra or Vivienne. Then again, she had instantly found herself enamoured with Iron Bull, Sera and Dorian. Those had been fast friendships indeed, borne out of the necessity of gaining allies, but turned into something so much more important. She supposes that if anyone was going to be her friend here though, it may as well be Nienna. For now.

“Thank you,” She says in response, and almost laughs at the excited look that springs to Nienna’s eyes. She absolutely looked like she wanted to do some sort of dance. “Do you not have other friends you wish to dine with though?”

Nienna brings her over a pastry and practically shoves it into her mouth.

“You are much better company to keep.”

She snorts as she chews the flaky bread that tastes like oranges, “I don’t know about that. Much more odd, maybe.”

“Less boring, most certainly.” Nienna laughs and joins her on the bed with her own pastry.

They sit like that for a while, enjoying each other’s content silence and eating the fruity breads that were really more like dessert. She had been into the meal hall, she knew they had meats and eggs and vegetables to serve, but it was fitting that this is what Nienna would choose.

After a while, she wipes some sweat from her forehead and sighs, “I smell.”

Nienna’s lips purse like she was trying hard to keep back a laugh. “You _really_ do.”

They both laughed then, and it was the first time she had really laughed in so long. The feeling of it was foreign and wonderful at the same time. It made her chest and belly ache as if they had been missing this.

“We can go to the baths today.” Nienna suggests, and for effect, pinches her nose.

She rolls her eyes and lobs a piece of raspberry tart at the girl who shrieks.

To the bath house they went though.

There bathing facilities were more public then she would have liked, not because she was shy about her body, but rather that all of the attention was automatically directed to her when they entered. She could practically feel them picking her apart, staring at her stump and ogling at all of the scars that littered across her form. She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead of her, staring at no one as she peeled her sweat soaked sleeping robes from her body. Nienna seemed to sense this discomfort as well and tried to block her body as best as possible.

Both men and women bathed together in bubbling pools of different liquids. Some were clear, and sparkled with different colours, others were dark and more viscous like mud. Nienna led her to, _thankfully_ , the most normal looking of the empty pools. It was like water from her own time, if only slightly more silver in colour. It bubbled more then most of the pools, and when she put her foot in, she found it to a soothing cool temperature rather then hot. Sitting in it made her body tingle happily, and Nienna smiled as she sat across from her.

“The waters are filled with herbs and magics that soothe the bodies aches and pains.” Nienna explains as she shimmies down into the water so only her head was visible.

“It is pleasant. I didn’t have bathes like this in-“ She pauses. She had been about to say _in my time_ , but stops herself short. She would have to be more careful. “In the fade.”

Nienna’s eyes spark with intrigue, like she wants to ask a question but doesn’t know if it is smart.

“You can ask. I may not be able to give answers.” She sighs, giving the girl a soft smile. Nienna reminded her too much of Cole; innocent and kind.

Nienna nods, and contemplates her words before asking, “So you didn’t have bathes there?”

An unexpected laugh squeezed her chest and she leans her head back in disbelief. Of all the questions the girl could ask, she goes with that?

“No,” She says with mirth, “There were no bath houses there. At least not where I was. My body didn’t smell or get quite as dirty so quickly there.” She was sure she had been filthy when she fell from the sky, but after a thousand or more years in the fade, it was probably safe to assume that since she hadn’t been absolutely covered in muck, that hygiene was a more slow building process there.

“Ooh, interesting,” Nienna hums, “I suppose it is the same when we sleep as well. I have never been to a bath house in the dreaming world either.”

She nods, as if agreeing in that solution, though she has no idea how the fade works even after all the time in it. It is more of a mystery to her then anyone.

She catches Nienna staring at her stump then. Not so outwardly as the others had, but rather quick stares and glances at it when she thinks she’s not looking. It was obvious that in this society, anyone with a scar or missing limb was unheard of. They must have seen her as malformed. Nienna especially must have interest, as a healer.

“It doesn’t bother me anymore.” She tells Nienna, hoping to calm the girls worried glances.

Nienna blushes, like she’s embarrassed she was caught looking.

“Does it hurt?” The girl asks.

“It used to, when it first happened. It would ache from time to time,” She says as she thinks about the throbbing that would keep her up at night. “Sometimes I would forget that it was gone, and that’s what hurt the most.” She remembers vividly all the times she had gone to open a door, pick up a book, or grab her daggers, only to realize the arm and hand she wished to use were no longer there. That seemed like many lifetimes ago. “It’s okay now. I’ve grown used to it and no longer need it to survive.”

Nienna was chewing on her lip as she listened, and fiddling with her fingers. “Could I ask… How did you… How did it happen?”

She sighed and frowned, her face scrunching up at the thought. Nienna whimpered and recoiled, like the girl had slapped her with the question and caused pain.

“Never mind! You don’t have to- I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have-“ The girl twittered anxiously.

She raised her good hand to silence the girl.

“It’s fine… It’s okay. It’s just a memory I’m not fond of,” She explains. How was she supposed to explain this to her? She couldn’t possibly tell her that her dead lover disintegrated her arm to help save her from an ancient power that threatened to kill her. No. Instead, she says, “Once, my hand had been cut, and that cut had infected. In order to save me from pain, a wolf bit it off.”

Nienna gasped and her eyes went wide at the tale. “A wolf? Wouldn’t that have hurt more?”

She wasn’t going to lie, “It did.”

But the means justified the end, like Solas had always preached. If he hadn’t taken it away, she would have died altogether. Though that might have been a mercy.

“Ive never heard of anyone getting hurt in the dreaming world.” Nienna says.

“Circumstances were different for me.” She sighs.

Nienna nods, resigning not to ask any questions anymore, and she is thankful for it. She knew the girl meant no harm, but thinking about everything that had happened seemed far more painful now then it had been before.

She dunks her body under the cool bubbly water and scrubs at her body, her scalp and more gently across the vallaslin on her cheeks. She came back to the surface gasping for air, but feeling a bit more refreshed.

When they exit the bathhouse, their robes have been replaced with fresh new tunics and pants. She doesn’t ask how, but she assumes magic has something to do with it. There wasn’t many subservient workers within the temple she had observed.

They decide then, to eat lunch in the main halls with the others. She was sure that on her own it would have been intolerable, but with Nienna by her side, people stared a little less. They stopped staring altogether though when the grand doors open and Mythal herself walks through. The elves all stand, including Nienna, and bow before her, hands clenched into fists over their hearts. She stood slower then the rest, and tied to emulate the same bow, though it felt wrong on her body to do so. Her body freezes altogether when she notices who is behind her.

He’s in more simple robes today, out of the armour pieces. The robes themselves are white and silky, adorned with pure white wolf furs. Boots adorn his feet, soft and white like the rest of his outfit. His hair is the same, the cut sides with black-brown tresses in braids and dreads down the middle tied into a ponytail. He follows Mythal in with an air of guard and envoy, accompanying her to the grand table in the hall that she had barely noticed before. He doesn’t look her way this time.

Mythal practically glided through the room with a gracious, calming smile. She waved her hands softly to signify they could be seated and go back to their meal. The elves leisurely go back to their food, and Nienna sits down as well, only to look up at her awkwardly when she wasn’t sitting.

“Psst, sit down.” Nienna whispers to her. She doesn’t sit down though, only coming back to her senses when the girl reaches over and tugs her hand down.

“Ah… Sorry.” She whispers back and sits, but she can no longer look at her food. Instead she watches as Solas walks Mythal to the grand table and greets the others that are already there. Other high ranking courts men and women, she assumes.

Her throat fills with bile as she looks at him, calm as ever tending to Mythal and her court as if nothing had ever happened. Because it _hasn’t_ happened, not yet at least. Part of her curses the world and fate and whatever higher power and gods were truly out there, for sending her back to look upon the man before the monster, unaware of all the pain and sorrow and destruction he would cause the world. The heartbreak he would cause _her_. It was unfair, _too unfair._

The anger that boils in her is like a sudden tidal wave.

She supposes that answered the question of how she would feel when she saw him again.

Nienna looks at her hesitantly over her plate of fruits and vegetables. “Are you okay?”

“No,” She replies and stands up from the table quickly, knocking her plate over as she does so. Elves from all over the room look in her direction, but she doesn’t care. She swings her legs over the bench she had been on and storms out of the hall, fully intending to go back to her room and stab a pillow to death with her dagger.

She doesn’t get too far though.

“Halt.” It is not a suggestion, but an order. She knows that voice, who It belongs to.

 _Fuck_ , she thinks and slows in her steps. She contemplates running then, running far away, or even throwing herself off the side of this floating island to rid herself of this encounter. But then again, it was bound to happen sometime.

There is the sound of clicking on the marble as he walks closer, boots making echoes through the halls. He walks around her slowly, as if inspecting her as he did so, until he stopped in front of her in all his _elvhen glory,_ as Sera would say.

Solas.

Where she expects his face to be stoic or calmly serene like she is used to, instead it is scrunched up in a look of enthralled confusion, like he was faced with something he didn’t understand and wanted to dissect it to figure it out. Except the _it_ was her.

“You are the woman who fell from the sky.” He says. The first words he has ever spoken to her in this time.

“I am.” She says back with a bite to her voice that neither of them had expected.

He looks her over, studying her face and the vallaslin that burns against her flesh as he stares at his own designs, the arm that he destroyed, the scars that he had gave her. He stared into her eyes last, trying to find something. She wasn’t sure what.

She tries to hold herself together. Tries so hard to keep her body from shaking under his gaze. Tries to stay as still as stone in the hopes that he would not see into her soul.

“I have many questions,” He says then.

She almost laughs at the irony of it all.

“I’m sure you do.” She remarks.

Sick satisfaction creeps up her spine. _Oh had the tables turned_. In her time, it had always been her asking Solas the questions. It had always been her who had been lost in the dark, grasping at straws to figure out what was going on. It had _always_ been her. But now, it was him who knew nothing and her who was keeper to the answers.

His face scrunches up in slight annoyance and he clenches his fists subtly, but not enough for her trained eyes not to catch.

“I have never met a puzzle I could not solve eventually.” Solas asserts.

Her blood feels like its burning as her anger sparks.

 _Ah_ , she thinks, _That’s all I am to you here. Nothing but a puzzle._

“You will be sorely mistaken.” She declares back, and he almost looks slightly shocked that she would defy him. He probably hadn’t been faced with such a situation in his life.

Their eyes lock against one another in the sharpest stares each other could muster. It was truly the stare down of the ages; neither wavering from the other.

“You faltered when you saw me in Mythal’s garden, why?” He interrogates.

“I did not.” She challenges.

“Are you saying I am mistaken?” He scoffs, as if that is impossible.

“You’re the one that said it.” She practically spits.

His brows furrow more and his lips twitch into a frown. “My eyesight has never deceived me.”

She rolls her own eyes at his pride. He had always been a know-it-all, and for the most part, he really had known it all. But now, in this world, in this time, his youth made him cocky.

“Is there a point to this conversation? Does someone need something of me, or can I leave?” She asks, thinly veiled venom seeping from her words.

“Our Lady Mythal informed me that you were to be left alone until you recovered, but I am most certain that you are lively enough.” Solas practically growls, and she has to say, he does look much more fearsome in his ancient elvhen form. Tall and imposing. “I need answers.”

“You _want_ answers.” She corrects.

“I _need_ answers,” he says again, colder this time. “You are a puzzle, a mystery, an unknown. We do not know of your nature or how you came to exist. Without answers, and even with them, you are a threat to us. It is my duty to protect Mythal and The People with my life.”

She realizes then, that all of the stares from the elves, the way they shuffled away from her when she came too close, and whispered nervously as they glared, was not because she was a bug beneath their gaze. No, no. She was a _bomb_. A ticking, ticking bomb that no one knew how to disengage. Solas was right, she was an unknown threat in their eyes. No one knew where she came from, how she came to be, and what she was capable of.

And oh she was capable of so, so much.

“You will not believe me, but I have no intention of harming your people, much less Mythal.” She says. If anything, to fix everything that would happen in the future, she may have to fight tooth and nail to keep Mythal alive. “I told your lady the same thing and she believed my words.”

He must have heard the same from Mythal, because he sighs in annoyance then. Mythal had surely told him of the events of their encounter, and it was obvious he did not approve of the sliver of trust Mythal had placed in her.

Solas grows quiet then, and seems off in thought. She takes this time to examine him again, hoping to find some sort of tell that this was not the man she would fall in love with. That somehow he would not treat her so cruelly. Alas, despite the slightly altered appearance, it was there. It was all there, and she could see it. He had not yet grown into the all of the wisdom nor had the experience that her Solas had, but he would if given the time. His very core was the same.

“You are a spirit, are you not?” He tries, after some time.

“What?” She says with a frown, slightly in surprise but also in disbelief.

“It is the only explanation of how you came physically from within the fade. Only spirits can do so, so how did you achieve this?” He interrogates as he examines her again. He was figuratively poking the bomb. Either he was not as smart as she knew him to be in the future, or he thought he could handle anything she could possibly do by pressing her. Most likely the latter.

“I can assure you, I am a _person_.” She stresses the last word, because she has already grown tired of being seen as some foreign object.

Solas shook his head like that couldn’t possibly be the answer, “How did you come to take a body? Was it possession? Or did you somehow create this body yourself?”

She grinds her teeth together in frustration, “I was born with my body like anyone else.”

It was obvious that he wasn’t listening to her anymore, on a tangent of his own thought process. She had seen him do this before; muttering softly to himself to help piece things together. She had thought it charming before, but now she felt like an inanimate wall standing beside him invisible or unimportant.

“You have vallaslin like others, but an unfamiliar design. You look like one of The People, and yet at the same time, seem different,” He continues, his eyes looking at her shorter form, her ears which weren’t as pointy as his were, her bone structure which was like the elves here and yet different in subtle places. Features from the generations of elves through the times that had evolved and changed from the ancient elves they came from. “Did you gaze upon our people from the dreaming world and try to construct your own body? This one is obviously missing… _pieces_.”

She felt the anger _snap_ within her, a ferocity that she had never felt before coursing through her blood. She could hear the thumping of her heartbeat like a battle drum in her ears.

_Pieces that you stole from me!_

She wants to scream at him, yell and punch him. The words hurt more then they should, but of course they did because they came from _him_. From Solas, the man she would fall for in the years far, far from now. The man she would watch the stars with in his embrace. The man that would teach her about the wonders of spirits and dreaming. The man who would wash away her slave markings. The man who would toss her emotions around like a rag doll, and yet she still loved him through it all. It hurt to be seen as anything less of what she was after all he had done to her, _would_ do to her.

She couldn’t stop the tears this time.

Burning hot tears of anger fall from her eyes and her body shakes with a mix of anger and sadness; a toxic mixture of agony.

Solas freezes before her as he watches them fall from her narrowed eyes. Gone is the annoyance, the anger, the interrogator. Only the curiosity was left.

“You feel sorrow.” He says quietly, as if he had never expected her to be anything other then a threat, because when she cries and shakes before him, it was harder to see her as someone who could explode at any instant.

“What, surprised the _puzzle_ has feelings?” She hisses at him, and it sounds more powerful then her voice had ever been before. The drumming of her blood pumping in her ears gave her courage.

“I…” he was at a loss for words as he stared at her, around her, through her.

“Well if that’s all, I’ll be taking my leave now.” She snarls, and before he can say anything more, she’s already turned on her heel and walked away.

Her throat feels constricted and she cant help but sob as she practically runs to her room, throws the door open with a loud _bang_ and throws herself to the bed. Her fingers search under the pillows desperately until they find the cool metal of the dagger there. She pulls it free and uses her teeth to remove the leather sheath on it.

She struggles to her knees and then takes the dagger and plunges it into the closest pillow, over and over again, letting out a raged scream. It would seem childish normally, but she did not have a sparring partner or training dummies to unleash her anger upon here. She feels the dagger grow warm in her grasp, incredibly hot with the metal.

_Stupid Solas. Stupid Fade. Stupid Fate! I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want **any of this!**_

With that, her thoughts practically alight, she plunges the dagger into the pillow one more time and the fabric combusts beneath her grasp.

She gasps and scrambles backwards as fire bursts from the dagger and the pillow, setting her bed aflame.

Well shit. That was new.


	4. The Hall of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! Thank you again, again and again for your support. I apologize for the longer wait on this chapter, it ended up taking longer then I would like.
> 
> This chapter was actually much longer originally, but I decided to cut it up into two since it was a bit too long? 
> 
> Also, again do note that this is rated explicit for a reason. I intend to write more NSFW chapters later on in the story but I will always mark them and provide a SFW version elsewhere. But for now I enjoy a slow burn.

She stares in bewilderment at the flames that lick up the front of her bed. Flames that had come from her very hand and dagger. Flames that shone bright red but danced into colours of green and black.

Was that the effect of magic here? Had she just done _magic_!? It couldn’t possibly be real.

But alas, she could feel the heat of them against her skin, hear the crackling as they consumed her headboard, so they were very much real indeed. It felt unexplainable, but… In this time where magic ran wild through the world like the winds, was she able to tap into its power as well? She had never in her life thought she would use magic except for the anchors power which she had stolen from Corypheus. She just hadn’t had a knack for anything arcane in nature, and had really only been getting by with the anchor through trial and much error. Rather, she was far more comfortable with slinking through the shadows with her daggers and arrows. Now though… could she use magic? Would she even _want_ to?

The knock on her door took her out of her revelries and she came to the realization that _oh yeah, my beds on fire._

“One moment!” She yells in a flash of panic and grabs the blanket on the bed, throwing it over the flames before beating on top of the fabric, smothering the fire into submission. When she peeks underneath the blanket she sees a mess of blackened, charred blankets and pillows but luckily the fire had been put out.

Laying in the midst of it all was the dagger she had stolen. It was still shiny and illustrious, better quality then she would have thought. She snatched it up, slid from the bed and quickly ran to the desk to deposit it in one of the side drawers. She couldn’t risk being seen with it, lest it cause her any more problems then setting fire to her room already would.

Casting a hesitant look and wince of discomfort toward the bed that had been beautiful and pristine before, but was now a tarnished, sooty mess, she sighs and walks over to the door. Her hand pauses before she touches the door knob though.

What if it was Solas?

She knew she couldn’t deal with him again, and though the anger and sadness and pain had all been doused like the flames for surprise and shock, she could still feel them bubbling beneath the surface. If it was him she would just slam the door in his face, she decides.

Luckily, as she opened the door a crack, it is Nienna’s face that greets her. Her green eyes are narrowed with worry, her brow is furrowed anxiously and her lips are downturned and clenched. When she sees her though, the expression melts into one of relief, as if the usually chipper ancient elf had thought the girl she had healed had gone and gotten herself killed.

“Ah, Nienna, it’s you.” She says, unable to truly think of something intelligent to say. She doesn’t open her door very wide, hoping to conceal the mess behind her.

“I looked everywhere for you!” Nienna practically wailed and threw herself through the door and embraced her in a hug. She grunted awkwardly and clenched her eyes shut.

It felt like so many years had passed since she had any sort of physical interaction with another, and then again, if her time in the Fade meant anything, it had been _thousands_. After Solas had left her and the Inquisition she had been too busy planning and parlaying with nobles and other forces, to take part in a tryst, and of course a part of her never let up hope that her first true love would come back any day. After his betrayal had been brought to light and he left her with a broken heart, a shattered arm and more questions then answers, she had been too bitter and angry for any sort of connection. She had sheltered herself off from love, destined to never love another as she selfishly fought for any way to redeem Solas. Of course she had a few flings in that time, she had needs after all, but none of them were so compassionate and meaningful. The most constant physical interaction she had was from the brief visits she would make to Dorian in Tevinter while she was researching. The man had constantly given her loving embraces, the kind a best friend would, and she missed them dearly.

Nienna’s hug was warm and kind, and though she felt stiff with unfamiliarity, she had to admit it felt good to be held, in any sort.

“I’m okay.” She assures and awkwardly pats the girl on her shoulder.

Nienna pulled back and examined her face, searching for any kind of flaw that hadn’t been there before. When she finds none she says, “You felt all weird and angry and then you just left so fast! And then Commander Solas followed you out with an even weirder face and, and… I thought maybe something had happened.”

She thinks back to the heated words and accusations between her and Solas.

“Nothing happened, it’s fine. He just… asked me a question. Nothing important.” She lies, feeling terrible for doing so, but knows better then to involve such an innocent girl in her complicated issues. Issues that go beyond time and fate.

“That’s all?” Nienna asks, and she can tell that the girl wanted to ask what kind of questions, but didn’t dare do it.

“That’s all.” She confirms.

“Alright well-“ The girl pauses, and her face twists into an array of emotions, one after another. Confusion, surprise, shock, followed by worry and more confusion. “What happened here!?” Nienna gasps, and it is then that she realizes Nienna is looking past her and at the obvious signs of destruction in her room.

_Shit!_

“I…” She has no clue what to say.

Nienna walks over to the bed and inspects it, face a mask of confusion. She lifts the blankets and stares at the scorch marks inquisitively. “This looks like the marks of a child who had a temper tantrum.” Nienna remarks, making her wince at the thought that she was no better then a child here. It wasn’t wrong though, she hadn’t the faintest idea on how to use magic in her own time, much less in a time where magic was so prevalent you could breathe it in.

“I didn’t mean to.” She sighs.

Nienna, surprisingly, looks like she was going to laugh, “ _You_ did this? But you're an adult! You should have more control over your magic then this!”

She stared at Nienna with pursed lips and scratched at her broken arm in discomfort. Nienna stared back and blinked. And then blinked again. Realization dawned on the girls face and she gasped. And then said the words she was dreading to hear.

“You don’t know how to use magic…” It was more of a statement then a question.

She shrugs, trying to be non-chalant, but feeling more awkward then ever. Even more reasons for her to be considered a freak.

“I didn’t have access to it where I came from.” She says simply.

Nienna processes this for a minute before saying, “I didn’t even think about that… I had just assumed… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She says and walks over to the bed to perch at the edge of it, beside her burn marks. “You couldn’t have known.”

No one could have known that she came from a world that had been split apart. Where magic was sealed behind a barrier, and only those who could slip their fingers through it could access the power of the fade. For all they knew, she fell physically from the very place where magic was borne. Why wouldn’t she know how to control it.

“To not be able to use magic…” Nienna whispered to herself, looking as if such a premise was true horror. She came and softly sat beside her on the bed in thought of it all.

“I never really thought about it before.” She shrugs.

Nienna looked at the bed and then to her, “Well you did this! You have the capability to use magic. Would you… would you like to learn?

Ah the most frustrating question of _what to do now_?

She wasn’t sure how she felt about using magic, especially after seeing what it had done to so many countless mages and innocents in her own time. The void eyes of the Tranquil when they had their power stripped from them. The hungry eyes of Corypheus as he searched for enough magic to tear into the Black City. She knew the worlds order worked differently here, but her experience had taught her to be wary of every new road. On the other hand, she knew it would make her a fool to ignore the fact that she may _need_ magic here despite not wanting it. She was already at disadvantage as she was, with her lack of knowledge of this time. Could she really risk shoving an opportunity like this under the rug?

Thinking about it made her head hurt and her fingers twitch restlessly.

Nienna squirmed under the silence and began to fiddle with her hands while she spoke, “I know I will not be the best teacher… I mean, magic is hard to explain, but, but I can try! I mean, I’m only really a healer but, but I know the basics! And I can-“

She cut the girl off by placing her hand on Nienna’s shoulder. The poor girl was going to wind herself up until she exploded.

“You… You can teach me.” She says hesitantly.

Nienna’s already big green eyes grow even wider. “Really?” She whispered in disbelief.

“Really,” She confirms.

The pure, unadulterated joy on the girls face was almost enough to make her feel good about this decision. She was still unsure if this was a smart idea, but she knew that she at least needed to learn how to control the power being thrust upon her. She couldn’t have any more accidental combustions and Nienna was the only person she even _somewhat_ trusted here.

Her mind drifts to Solas. Her Solas and the Solas from this time. She knew he would probably be the best teacher she could ever imagine, but she couldn’t bare to be around him right now or maybe ever. It hurt too much. It was all too different and the same.

So for now, Nienna was her guide in this confusing world.

“We can practice every day, unless I’m busy that is… oh! And we can have snacks while we do it, and train into the night time and-“ Nienna went on chittering like a little bird, obviously too excited to contain herself. It made her wonder Nienna’s position in Mythal’s Temple. She was a healer, which meant she had some semblance of power here, but the way she acted and the way she presented herself was like a small calf trying to use heir legs for the first time. She must be young in Ancient Elvhen standards. Nevertheless, she could see a burning passion in the girl, one she had seen in herself many years ago when the Inquisition started. Nienna was ready to prove herself.

“I promise I won’t let you down!” Nienna says firmly, a look of determination filling her eyes.

She nods, holding back a soft laugh at the girls whimsy. It had been a while since she had truly witnessed a soul as fresh and innocent as this. “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful.” She pauses then, and looks at the state of her bed. “Maybe we could start with fixing the bed?”

Nienna giggles, “That may be a bit advanced as far as first lessons go.”

The night ends with Nienna using magic to reconstruct her bed within an instant, while she watched curiously, wondering if she would be able to do that some day. She thanks the girl and excuses her from the room with Nienna’s promises of doing a good job and keeping this quiet from others. She hardly needed anyone knowing that magic was a weakness of hers, lest they use that to their advantage.

She then lay in her freshly constructed bed and stared out the window into the recently setting sun and closed her eyes, hoping no dreams troubled her mind. She wasn’t so lucky.

* * *

 

It was becoming habit for her to wake up from nightmares to the sound of knocking at her door.

This time she had been in Skyhold, playing a game of Wicked Grace with her friends. Dorian was telling some lavish tales with Varric’s laughter following suit. Josephine and Cullen were arguing over game rules and statistics. Sera was drunk beneath the table, with Iron Bull passing her a fresh cask every so often. Casandra was against betting and gambling, but she sat nearby with a book in her hands, thumbing through the pages. Cole sat above, looking down on them from the stairs and rafters, humming along softly to the bard’s singing.

It was a memory. One of the most cherished ones she had of the Inquisition. It was the last game they had ever played together, after the defeat of Corypheus. Before they had spread across Thedas. Before Solas’ true betrayal.

It was perfect for a fleeting moment, but her mind could not let that stand.

The candles flickered out, leaving them scrambling in the dark as the door burst open and demons crawled through. They tore the tavern apart, throwing chairs, ripping apart the floorboards and feasting on her friends. They cried and screamed in wicked torture now as they were torn apart, crying for her aid. But she couldn’t help, for she was frozen in place. No matter how hard she tried to move her body would not listen. So she sat there perfectly still and watched as her friends tried and failed to fight against the darkspawn that sank their teeth and blight into them.

She couldn’t even shed a tear.

The knocking snaps her back to reality. However unreal this reality seemed to be for her.

She slips from bed and doesn’t bother trying to smooth her appearance, knowing it would be Nienna on the other side, probably with pastries galore. Except it isn’t the bright eyed, spiky haired girl on the other side.

It’s Solas.

Her body automatically tenses as she looked up at his impossibly tall form. He was dressed in his fine armour this morning; golden and shining against the whites of his silk and cotton robes and pristine albino wolf furs. It was obvious that he was on duty from the way he dressed to his imposing body language; standing tall and regal.

Their eyes meet for a moment and she briefly wonders if he’s inspecting her face for something. But all to fast his eyes snap away and he’s looking straight ahead, which so happens to be over her head.

“Our Lady Mythal requires your presence, post haste.” He says stoically, trying to evade any emotion in his tone.

“She sent someone as _important_ as you to come get me?” She goads instantly, still feeling residual anger from their previous conversation, and wonders if there will be any kind of reaction from him, but there isn’t. No eye twitch of brow furrow or even fists clenching. The man was a blank wall. Instead he just turns and begins walking down the hall. She knows she is expected to follow, so she does.

The walk to Mythal’s garden is quiet, and she quickly combs through her dishevelled hair with her fingers, and straightens her flowy clothing. She knew appearances often mattered in situations such as these. She could practically hear Josephine’s lecturing on how to _play the game_ ; something she had hated but ended up being rather good at.

She wonders what Mythal could want with her, and honestly the endless possibilities are some what terrifying. She wasn’t so proud to realize that this woman, the Evanuris, was far more powerful then she seemed. It looked like neither of them knew the others capabilities. Unfortunately for her though, this was Mythal’s domain, so even if she had some sort of power above the ‘Goddess’, Mythal ultimately had the upper hand.

Best case scenario, this was all just talk. She could handle Mythal’s probing questions about her and the Fade. She had been deliberating on how to portray the situation to the Ancient Elf since she had gained a moment to think to herself. Worst case scenario, Mythal has somehow found out about everything all on her own and Solas was currently walking her to her death. Best not to dwell on that though.

The same guards as before are at the doors, at least she thinks, because quite honestly she hadn’t done much paying attention her first day here. They, who were already standing tall, stand rim rod straight under Solas’ presence. She’s reminded of the Inquisition soldiers trying to look impressive in front of Cullen. She supposes Commander Solas is either inspiring to them or scares them enough to do so.

He nods to them and they quickly turn and press their hands to the ornate gold door, hands beginning to glow with some kind of magic like they had before. The doors begin to slide open on their own again, revealing the same beautiful garden as before. Except this time the flowers seemed to be in full bloom, and a few elves in blue and white robes seem to be harvesting some of the petals.

She follows Solas up to the pavilion, and this time Mythal is not upon her throne, but sinning at the long, elaborate table that is covered in a delicious smelling spread. Fluffy eggs, seared meat, sparking fruits, golden breads and tarts and flutes of blue liquid. Mythal herself is dressed fabulously in a golden dress that is gorgeous and yet not too ostentatious; small diamonds and sapphires embedded into the robes. Her long blonde hair tumbles down her back and is as soft and shiny as ever.

Beside her is a familiar man, with a sharp jaw, brown eyes, black vallaslin and ebony hair that is pulled back into a small knot at the base of his skull. She’s at a loss of where she had seen him before, until his eyes spot her and his face instantly sours. That glare, those pursed lips, that look of distaste. _Ah, one of the healers that works with Nienna._ He had been there when she had first woken up in this time. She remembered him to be quite the coward then, hiding behind the women. Now though, at Mythal’s side he looks far more sure of himself. She couldn’t tell if it was an act.

There was a few others at the table, dining on the breakfast feast, but none she recognizes.

Solas stops before the table, places his closed fist over his heart and bows his head to Mythal.

“My Lady, I have brought her.” He says dutifully.

Mythal looks over and a soft smile like graceful lily petals adorns her lips.

“Solas, right on time. Thank you, dear friend.” She says, and some at the table seem to look at the man with thinly veiled jealously. Not many were so high in Mythal’s eyes it appears. The Evanuris turns to the rest of the table. “I apologize, but if you will excuse us. I wish to parlay with our newest guest.”

No one questions the woman, instead standing from their meals instantly and fleeing the table. They all give her quick glances of curiosity that say _why does she of all people get to have private conversation with Our Lady._ The man she recognizes makes sure to be obvious with his glaring as he walks by. She hears him calling to the other elves in the garden, the ones who had been harvesting, and beckons for them to leave as well. Soon enough it was just her, Solas and the Mother Evanuris left.

“Please, sit. Eat. It was unkind of me to invite you here so early.” Mythal says, gesturing to the chair across the table from herself.

 _Then why did you_ , she thinks to herself, still wondering the reason she was here.

Nevertheless she pulls the chair out and sits at the table. Solas doesn’t sit however, and goes to stand to the side of Mythal, just behind her chair. Mythal seemed unfazed by this.

The Evanuris took it upon herself to serve her some fruit and pour her a glass of whatever that blue liquid was. “Please, eat.” She knew her coming here wasn’t just for breakfast, but her stomach was threatening to growl, so she says thank you and proceeds to stab a berry with her fork. Mythal watches her for a moment before going back to eating as well.

They sit in silence as they eat, the only sounds are of forks and spoons on the plates, and of the soft sipping noises as they drank from their flutes. The blue liquid, she finds out, is oddly bubbly in her mouth and fizzles against her tongue. It tastes sweet and sour at the same time, and like every fruit she had ever tasted all at once. Sitting with Mythal, dining together, was some of the Dalish’s dream come true, but now that she was here she couldn’t help but be on edge. All the while Solas stands quietly, staring ahead.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here.” Mythal says eventually, not looking up from her plate as she nonchalantly cut a piece of meat with her fork and knife.

Ah, here it comes.

The Evanuris continues, “You have had a few days of rest, and I’m sure you have enjoyed my temples hospitality. We would love to continue providing such, but you must hold your end of the bargain.”

Of course. Mythal was a kind woman, she could tell, and she was sure the other Evanuris would have thrown her in a dungeon and made her talk rather then allowing her a room and some semblance of freedom. Alas, Mythal may be kind but she was not so selfless as to keep such a mysterious stranger here without a reason.

“You want knowledge.” She says, looking at the Evanuris. Mythal meets her eyes and those liquid gold orbs stare through her. She could feel raw power, _old_ power, there within those eyes.

“You are quite curious. It is not every day we have women falling from the sky, claiming to have physically walked the dreaming world.” Mythal replies, “You also claim to be a person, so, tell me, how was it you were borne in the beyond?”

Oh.

The woman thought she had came to creation within the Fade. She was wondering why she was not a spirit, why she had a physical body, much like Solas had. For a moment she was tempted to go along with it, to come up with some story that she had been some kind of mystical anomaly. Well, she was, but she hadn’t been born in the Fade. Telling Mythal she was would be the easiest solution to her situation, but she still got the feeling that lying to Mythal would be worse then telling some form of truth.

“I wasn’t born there,” She says after some thought.

Mythal’s face shows the first sign of annoyance, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion “You told us you fell from the fade.”

The food in her stomach twisted painfully at the expression. She was losing the small sliver of trust she had. The trust she _needed_ if she was to stay here. “I did fall from the Fade like I said, but that’s not where my life began.” She explains quickly.

Mythal’s face calms and a look of simple curiosity washes over, “Which lands do you hale from? I have not seen any that have looked like you.”

She almost winces. She had supposed that the slight variations in her appearance that had been bred from these Ancient Elves wasn’t so obvious. She was wrong it seems.

“I am not from your lands,” She says, but even that seems wrong. She was from these lands, from Thedas. Just many, many years from now. Not that she could tell Mythal that. The incident with Alexius and many conversations with Dorian had taught her that time was powerful and dangerous. Maybe more powerful and dangerous then Fate. Telling Mythal that she was from the future could change everything in a way she couldn’t control. But she couldn’t tell her nothing either.

“Explain,” Mythal says.

She scrambled for some plausible way of explaining this all to the woman. How to explain that she was from the future, a place that seemed like a completely different world from Ancient Elvhenan.

_That’s it!_

“I am not from your lands,” She says again, this time with more confidence, “Because I come from another world.”

Mythal blinks, and she sees Solas’ unwavering expression shift to look at her with confusion as well. Not expecting that, it appears.

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Another world?” Mythal asks.

She nods, “It was… it was much like this world, but different.”

“Was?” Mythal’s brow raises again in speculation. She curses herself for not choosing her words carefully.

“My world was destroyed.” She says, painfully. She doesn’t want to think about it, especially in front of _him_. But she didn’t have much of a choice.

“By what means was it destroyed?” Mythal asked, leaning forward slightly, ready to consume her every word. The pure fascination and intrigue in the woman’s eyes scared her.

It takes her a moment to answer, but when she does it is slowly and with anguish, ”My world was devoured by a man. For his wish was to fix his mistakes, change the world back to something it was not any longer. His goal outweighed anything else, even life itself. In the end it was a fools errand; what had been done could not be undone and in his attempt to do so, he destroyed it all.” Now that version of him was gone, and she was left to fix his mistakes instead.

Mythal eats up her every word and leans back with astonishment and sorrow swirling around on her face.

“You speak as if you knew him.”

Mythal doesn’t need a response, the torture on her face as she finally looks away from those ancient eyes is telling enough.

“That must have been painful for you,” the Golden Woman says, and she can tell there is empathy in those words, not just courtesy.

“I survived.” She counters, as if saying so will stop the grief pulling at her heartstrings. She doesn’t dare look at Solas.

“You were left with wounds, scars.” Mythal says and reaches across the table, gently placing a hand on her own. The woman’s skin was cool to the touch in a pleasant way, like the healing

“Many.” She agrees. She wore her story on her skin, but she knew Mythal was not just talking about her physical scars.

Mythal nods and pulls her hand back, “I must ask then, how you came to exist in the Fade. How did you come to appear in our world?”

She frowns then, because she would really like the answer to that as well. All she knew was what the dragon in the Fade has told her; that when Solas tried to open the veil, the fade had been like an explosion that consumed the material world. Somehow, she who had been favoured by the Fade, had been _graciously_ allowed to survive. How she ended up back in time was beyond her; through the power of the dragon.

“All I know is that when my world was torn apart, Fate lead me here. I awoke in the Fade and walked through it for many years before I…” Something deep down told her not to tell Mythal of the dragon, “I just fell through to your world. I don’t know how.”

She barely even knew _why_ she was back beyond being here to stop the world from ever ending.

“Interesting.” Mythal hums and looks at Solas. “There is much we do not yet know about the beyond.”

Solas nods in agreement and speaks for what seems like the first time in forever, “If what she says is true, the dreaming world holds more power then ever thought of.” He seems troubled, curious, confused and in awe all at the same time.

“Physically entering the Fade may grant access to all means of new worlds.” Mythal ponders.   
  
She instantly felt chills down her spine at the idea of someone with as much power and knowledge as Mythal entering the fade as she had. She would have to stop that from happening if it was ever possible.

Mythal did have a point though, the Fade was like a crossroads in its own right. Not for worlds though, but for time. If she had been able to come back to Ancient Elvhenan, albeit through the means of a Fade dragon, there was endless possibilities of time travel. _Powerful and dangerous_.

“Have you any inkling on how one might do so?” Mythal questions.

She hasn’t the first clue how to go back to the Fade physically. Nor does she want to after thousands of years filled with misery existing within. When she had entered and exited previously it had been due to the anchor, then from Solas, then from a dragon. No matter how, it obviously requires enough power to shake the world and the heavens. Those she had heard of entering the Fade on their own in her time had required a great deal of lyrium and possibly blood magic, both of which she would absolutely not tell Mythal of. Lyrium lead to dwarves which lead to titans, which if Mythal didn’t know about already, she did not intend on being the one to spark her interest in them.

Besides, when she had entered the Fade, it had been separate from the material world, held back with the veil. It had become a separate plane of existence. Here, in Ancient Elvhenan, where the Fade and material worlds coexisted, she even more unsure. Plus, she’s not certain that if she knew all the answers that she would allow them know. She couldn’t trust Mythal with that.

“I do not,” She says, for once not feeling like she had to obfuscate.

“I see,” Mythal says, obviously displeased with the answer but not offended. The goddess couldn’t expect her to know everything. Such a person would be dangerous. ”I will take time to think about what has been said today. In the meantime you may continue to enjoy the hospitality of my temple. Thank you for your time.”

She is surprised by the woman’s politeness. Not often had she seen people in power who offered such pleasantries honestly. She had tried her best to be kind as the leader of the Inquisition, but knew that niceties would have to be excused when it was time to make hard decisions. Empress Celene had been kind to them for the sole purpose of appearances and the fact that they had saved her life. She knew politeness was always something more when playing the game. So beneath the words, she could see the meaning; I will continue to be kind to you and grant you what you wish, if you give me what I want.

She could play the game too.

“Of course, Lady Mythal,” she responds and bows her head slightly as she stood from her chair.

She turns to leave but stops when Solas speaks.

“I will escort her back.” Solas says, cutting through her tension.

She looks back at him with bewilderment. Why would he want to walk her back to her room after their heated words the day before? Unless he meant to continue to fight or ask her more questions.Even Mythal seems surprised with this, one elegant eyebrow raised, but she doesn’t disagree.

Instead she says, “Of course. The temple must still be unfamiliar to her. We wouldn’t want such an important guest to get lost.”

With this, Solas bows and walks ahead of her, his robes swishing by with the painfully familiar scent of spices and herbs she recognized from him in the future. She steels herself, lets out a breath and follows.

Their walk is completely silent. She wonders when he will speak, on edge for the moment he turns to snap at her or tell her he has figured her out and can see right through her. But he doesn’t. He just walks her through the halls expertly, showing the knowledge of one who has resided in the winding halls of the temple for many years. Halls she often gets lost in.

The walk feels like it lasts a hundred years at least, with her ready to bolt at any minute. They reach the hall where her room resides, and she’s almost free before he stops and she almost numbs into him.

Solas turns around and looks down at her with an unreadable expression.

“I wanted to apologize.” He says, voice quiet and respectful.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Pardon?”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, signs of embarrassment dusting his features. She’s absolutely beside herself.

“What I said last evening was unkind, in the very least.” He says. “I had never made anyone cry before and… I realize that I was being unfair. I had thought of you as less then a person and it was wrong.”

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she stared up at him, dumbfounded. Her Solas had never truly apologized to others for his actions, mostly because everything he had done, every move he made was calculated. The times he had apologized had been to her for all the times he had hurt her, and even then it had been complicated. She hadn’t been expecting the Solas of this time to be the same. Of course she knew they were the same person, _Gods she knew_ , that this Solas would one day be her Solas. She had gone over it in her mind a hundred times at least. But she hadn’t expected this younger version of Solas, cocky, hot blooded and full of pride to apologize so quickly.

“I come bearing a peace offering,” he says then.

“What?” She asks incredulously, “Why would you… You don’t have to-“

“I upset you last night,” he interrupts, and before she can stop to tell him she didn’t want any kind of gift, he continues, “I get the feeling that you are a woman who does not find words agreeable enough for apologies, but rather favours action?”

She looked at the mans curious eyes that were both embarrassed but alight with thinly veiled hope and vast depths of wisdom. He was too smart even in this time, and he wasn’t wrong. After so many words exchanged between Solas and her in the future only to have her hopes of things being different trampled over and over again, she had grown tired of empty promises and apologies. Actions are what mattered.

“I suppose you are not incorrect.” She says begrudgingly. She almost regrets it as she watches his eyes practically sparkle with hope and allure. Like he was proud he had gotten this right and wanted nothing more then to delve deeper and figure everything else out. The eyes she had fallen for many years from now. Her heart does a flip flop. _Thu-Thump._

“Do you like books?” He asked suddenly then.

“Do I like books?” She repeated back with furrowed brows. What kind of question was that, if his goal was to lead to apology? But then again, it got her thinking. Did she like books? For a moment she could barely remember.

Before the Inquisition, her clan barely had space for books in the aravels, and no matter how much she wanted them, they were not practical for travel. When the Inquisition began she had loved delving into the library, Dorian at her side, finding books that held important information for their cause. She recalled the times she would fall asleep in Solas’ study, reading tomes from the Magisterium to find information on Corypheus. She barely read for her own pleasure, but reading was a pleasure in itself.

“I suppose I do.” She concludes.

Solas nods, “Meet me tomorrow night by Mythal’s garden.”

He doesn’t say any more then that before turning and walking down the hall. She watches him go, frozen in place, and doesn’t move again until he’s out of eyesight.

 _What is he planning?_ She wonders as she walks to her door and opens it up.

“Hello!”

She jumps and raises her clenched fist to strike, only to stop when she sees Nienna sitting on her bed. The girl looks at her curiously.

She sighs and lowers her hand, “I would suggest against surprising me.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to but I knocked and you didn’t answer. So then I peeked in and you weren’t here.” Nienna says and hops off the bed, coming to greet her. “We were supposed to practice with your magic today, remember?”

“Right, sorry.” She says, having completely forgotten. “I got caught up with something.”

Nienna looks at her with a sly smile, “I heard a mans voice out in the hall. Who were you with?”

“Solas.” She sighs and rubs her temple, she was getting a headache because of it all.

Nienna squeaks in shock and looks at her with wide eyes, “Commander Solas!?”

She looks at the girls astounded expression and raises a brow, “Whats the matter?”

Nienna shook her head, “Nothing… It’s just… he’s very powerful. And he’s always busy on tasks given to him from Our Lady herself.”

 _Right_. She kept forgetting Solas’ rank within the temple. It was hard to forget, with him being beside Mythal all the time wearing fancy robes and holding himself like he was royalty, but she forgot what that rank meant to other people. To her, he was just Solas. A younger version of a person she used to know. But Ancient Elvhenan Solas was all these people knew of him. All the power and pride, none of the soft contemplation.

“Right. Of course.” She agrees.

Nienna’s lips purse as she examines her, and if she wanted to ask anything else, she doesn’t.

“Should we start practicing?” Nienna asks instead.

“Yes.” She says quickly. _Thank gods_ , because she was sorely in need of a distraction from Solas asking her to meet him again. At night.

“Come! Sit!” Nienna grins and scrambles onto the bed.

She follows suit and sits across from her, facing Nienna.

“Okay! Lesson number one!” Nienna exclaims, trying to put on her most knowledgeable voice. She reaches into a pocket of her robes and pulls out a handful of fresh green leaves.

“Those are leaves,” She says, confused.

“Yes! They are going to help us in today’s lesson!” Nienna laughs.

“Alright,” she nods, “then let’s get to it.”

Nienna nods and takes a deep breath, ”The first thing to know about magic is that everyone uses it differently.”

She frowns, “Then how can you teach me?”

“Well, think of it like painting. It’s like if we were all given paints when we are born, we are taught the basics of how to use a brush and canvas, but beyond that it is up to us what colours we use or what style we want. I can teach you the basics, but it’s up to you how you use it after that,” Nienna explains, and she supposes it makes sense when put like that. She was just never given paints until now she supposes.

Nienna continues, “We are told that magic is gifted to us from the beyond, that magic is all around us. It exists as part of everything living or not. Magic flows through our veins, and even through the petals of the smallest flower. We all have access to it, but everyone connects to the beyond differently. We draw on its power, and in turn we give ourselves to it.”

She remembers being told by the mages of the Inquisition that magic was both powerful and required power to use as well. Something they had called _mana_. It was the power and energy they gave to the Fade in exchange for manipulating it.

“So you lend your own strength, in order for the Fade to grant you its power? Like an exchange?” She asks.

“Exactly!”

“Alright, that makes sense, but after you tap into that power, how do you use it?” She queries.

Nienna scratches the back of her head in thought, “Well, the way I was taught was that to use magic we have to question reality and reshape it to our will. Some things take more energy and concentration to be able to do though, and others require more mastery and experience with magic to do.”

“It’s as simple as that? You just want something to happen and it just… does?” She laughs in disbelief. If that was the case, mages sure had it easy. She had taken many years to even be competent with a bow and daggers.

Nienna shrugs, “Kind of? But it requires a lot of practice and learning how to correctly access the beyond’s energies. If you aren’t careful, something completely unexpected can happen.”

“Okay, so what are the leaves for?” She asks.

“For practice!” The green eyed girl grins, “It was how I was taught when I was young.”

Nienna grabs a lead and puts it in her flat palm. The air begins to shimmer around it, and suddenly the leaf begins to float in the air, a green bubble of magical energy around it, keeping it afloat.

“See? It’s a good way to practice because it requires you to use just the right amount of magic to make it float. Too much and the leaf will be destroyed, not enough and nothing will happen.” Nienna explains and raises her other hand and the rest of the leaves begin to drift into the air, twirling around the room before settling back down between them. “Give it a try.”

Nienna sets a leaf in her palm.

“Feel the energies around you, concentrate on the feeling of the power of the beyond, then imagine yourself creating a ball of energy around the leaf, making it float.” The girl instructs.

“I’ll try…” She says hesitantly and looks at the leaf in her hand.

She concentrates on it, imagines it floating in a ball of energy like Nienna had done, tries to focus on the constant barely-there tingle on her skin she had recognized as magic when she first woke up in this world. She feels her blood _vibrate_ , the sound of the beating drum in her ears like she had heard when she used magic before, strong and powerful within her. There was a tension in the air around her that she could just reach out and _snap_ if she only wanted to. Was this what Nienna had meant? She reaches forward with her own body, her own energy and soul and accesses the power.

The leaf combusts in her hand, causing her to jump. The fire is green and black and powerful, but doesn’t burn her hand as she holds it.

Nienna, expecting this, reaches out and clasps glowing hands around her own, extinguishing the flames.

She looks at Nienna in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Nienna shook her head and pulled her hands away, revealing the incinerated ashes of the leaf.

“You have a lot of potential. I felt the way you pulled magic around you. It was… it was different.” Nienna says slowly, looking at her with a curious expression.

“It’s probably because I’ve never done this before.” She sighs and picks up another leaf. It was to be expected that she wouldn’t be like them, right?

Nienna nods, “You’re probably right. The good thing is that once you find the sweet spot of how much energy to pour into your magic, I think you’ll be a really good mage.”

“Thanks,” She responds, but she’s not sure how to feel about that. She really just wanted to learn basic control. Excelling with magic had never been her goal.

They spend the better part of the afternoon and evening working on making the leaves float. By the end of the night she had burnt her way through enough of them that Nienna had to go and pluck more. She found out that her problem was that she was putting too much energy in, causing the leaves to burst. So she tried the opposite. Even when she barely exerted herself, the leaves began to char at the edges. By the time they called it quits for the night, she had achieved an unburnt leaf but hardly any energy barrier around it.

Magic was difficult and confusing, and felt completely foreign to her, but she was determined to get it right.

Nienna left that night, yawning and telling her that she would get it with more practice and that they would see each other tomorrow.

After the girl left she realized just how exhausted practicing had made her feel. It was an exhaustion that reached beyond just her body, but her mind as well. Maybe mages didn’t have it easy after all.

* * *

 

The next day is spent sharing quiet, post-nightmare breakfast with Nienna, followed by a few hours of unsuccessful magic leaf training and then a long, much needed bath which her body was ogled enough for a century. After which, Nienna was called off to some duties and she was left alone. She tried practicing magic, but ended up feeling restless and grabbed her hidden dagger and began practicing with it instead. Spinning it, throwing it against the beautiful wall, balancing it on her finger.

Her heart was only half in all of it. Part of her mind was busy wondering what Solas could possibly want with her tonight. And what books had to do with it.

He hadn’t given her a specific time to meet with him, just night, so after the sun sets and she’s eaten dinner at the meal hall alone, she wanders over to the grand entrance of Mythal’s garden. When he doesn’t seem to be showing up right away, she leans against a wall somewhat down the hall, as to not look too suspicious in front of the guards standing at the door.

She wonders if Mythal has a room as well, or if she just sleeps in the grand garden and throne room. It was her temple, so she really could have six bedrooms if she so pleased.

Her mind wandered on and on off tangent, hoping to calm her unwanted nerves.

It was about an hour later, when she was about to give up and go back to her room, when the grand doors of Mythal’s garden opened on their own, and out came Solas.

He was dressed again in white robes, though these had a beautiful mosaic of gold and blue stitching in the shapes of moons and suns. His hair was pulled back in the usual braided ponytail, with small blue beads throughout this time. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to it, him dressed in such exquisite attire. The best dressed she had ever seen him before was either in his war armour or the matching robes they had all dawned to Empress Celene’s ball. She was used to him in his warm knit sweaters and wool pants. Not that he looked bad, of course. Unfortunately for her he looked handsome as always.

He spots her as he exits and makes his way over to her, her heart hammering with every step he took closer.

 _Shut up_ , she told her heart.

“I apologize, my duties took longer then anticipated. You haven’t been waiting long, I hope?” He asks as he greets her.

“Only a few moments.” She says, like a liar. She cant help but wonder just what he had been doing for Mythal anyways.

He begins walking down the hall, gesturing for her to do the same, “If you would follow me, I will show you our destination.”

She follows, but feels unsure about the whole situation, “You said this was some kind of peace offering? Where are we going?”

“Some patience,” He chides and she’s reminded of the times before when she had been expected to follow him with no answers. _Look how that turned out_. She bites the insides of her cheeks and follows anyways.

Solas leads her to a part of the temple she hadn’t been before, or for that matter, that she even knew existed. Nienna hadn’t shown her through these parts before, and as they kept walking she realized that even Nienna would not be allowed here. The décor, which had already been glamorous, was beyond that here. The stained glass windows actually danced with magic, stars moving through a picturesque glass night sky in one, Mythal holding a jug of water that actually poured, the blue stained glass swaying like moving water. Everything was ostentatious, yet easy on the eyes. It was obviously for people much important then her.

Solas caught her ogling eyes and smiled slightly at her curiosity.

“These are the Grand Halls, where Mythal’s chambers lay, as well as the rooms for her family members.” He explains, “I’m to assume you were already told about this?”

She nods in agreement.

Of course she hadn’t been told, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know. Oh she knew all about Mythal’s family. Elgar’nan, Falon’Din, Andruil, June, Dirthamen, Sylaise, Ghilan’nain… And of course Fen’Harel. Except he was no Evanuris, and luckily did not yet exist. Her clan had praised them for centuries, thinking of them as the ones who had created the world. They had been wrong.

They stop outside of more grand doors, these also golden, but oddly enough are less decorated then others she had seen. Except for the words ‘The Hall of Glass’ written in Elvish. She looked at Solas with questioning brow raise, and he just walked forward, laying his hands on the door for a moment before they began to quietly glide open.

The room inside was amazing.

It was in the shape of a long rectangle, and the ceiling was made of blue and white glass that made the floor drift like a kaleidoscope. The décor here was more muted, simple marble columns, plain floors, no mosaics or art anywhere. Even if there had been pottery or paintings, they would not have been the focus of the room. Lined along each side of the long hallway slash room, were large golden framed mirrors, each carved with its own beautiful design, and each impossibly tall and large enough for a horse to fit through, all coming to a point at the top.

 _Eluvians_.

She had only seen a handful of working Eluvians in her travels, even more shattered. She would always be shocked at there beauty.

She walked down the smooth steps into the room, Solas watching her as she walked before them in awe.

There was at least thirteen in the room, and each reflected an array of shifting colours and images. All breathtaking.

“These are Eluvians,” Solas says, walking up behind her as she examines one in detail, “They allow us to travel far distances within mere moments.” He explains, “June, Mythal’s son was the one to create them.”

She knew what Eluvians were as well, of course, but she hadn’t known them to be June’s handiwork. Though it was no surprise that the supposed God of Craft was responsible for such a masterwork.

“We had… something similar in my world, though they were few and far between. Many had been shattered unfortunately. It was a waste. They are awe-inspiring.” She whispers and carefully reaches out to touch the one before her. Her finger doesn’t go though, in fact it’s solid under her touch, but the surface ripples like disturbed water.

She remembers Morrigan using some sort of magic to grant access through the Eluvians and into the crossroads. Not just anyone could enter.

“You had said your world was much like ours,” Solas says and she looks up at him. His eyes look hungry for answers, and he opens his mouth to ask questions but decides against it, rather, turning and walking down the hall to another Eluvian. “This way.”

She follows him to another Eluvian, this one designed with an open book at the top and carved words through the frame. Some she could read as _knowledge, learn, listen, power._ Other words felt so old she could not comprehend them.

“What’s through this one?” She asks, looking up at Solas.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his lips, “Would you like to see?”

She gives him a look that says, _obviously_.

He snorts in humour and raises his hand to the mirror but stops short before anything happens, and then turns back to her with a troubled look.

“Where we are going, there will be many of The People,” He says slowly, and her gut instantly sinks at the thought of more of the elves glaring. “I can’t do anything about how you feel but I can draw attention away from your physical form.”

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with my physical form.” She bites back instantly. She was not a self conscious person, she had always had more important things then looks to worry about, but she had to admit that constantly being looked at like a mutation was not enjoyable in the least.

Solas sighs and she can tell its not one of annoyance, but of disappointment.

“I know what I said before about… missing pieces was unkind,” He says, “I understand that there is a reason you wear your scars and wounds. I was wrong, but the others we will cross paths with wont think the same way. It could cause trouble.”

 _Then let it_ , is what she wants to say, but she sighs as well.

She supposed there was nothing wrong with blending in enough to avoid the gawking of more foreign Ancient Elves.

“Get on with it then,” She says in defeat.

He reaches for her, and she flinches instantly. His hands pull away, eyes slightly wide in surprise, not expecting her to be so guarded. But it was _him_ , and she was scared what him touching her would make her feel.

She swallows thick, hot saliva and nods, clenching her fist and readying herself. Except he doesn’t touch her. His hands glow a familiar blue, the kind she had seen when he had washed her face clean of her vallaslin. Her heart instantly raced in fear that he would rid her of the ink on her cheek, of his own markings. When his hands pulled away, she instantly peered into the Eluvian’s ever shifting surface.

It was hard to see perfectly, but in the mirror she saw herself, the same but different. It was like a blank canvas of what she was. Gone were the few scars that peeked out from beneath her clothing, seemingly disappeared. Her face no longer adorned Solas’ designs, but Mythal’s markings instead; across her cheeks, forehead and chin. Most shocking of all was the new arm that rested where her old one had before it was destroyed. Almost instinctually she tried to wiggle her fingers but regretted it immediately as the hand did not move and a phantom pain shot though her body. She screwed her eyes shut tightly.

It wasn’t real then.

Solas, seeing her panic, explained, “It’s only illusion, not permanent. I can take it away when I please. When we return.”

That made her heart return to its normal position in her chest rather then her stomach.

“Aren’t people going to notice if I’m not using my other arm?” She asks and looks at the fake arm. She reaches for it, but her hand passes straight through.

“They won’t be looking long enough to notice,” He assures.

“If you say so,” She says in disbelief. Were Elves here really that unobservant?

Solas inspects her for a moment longer, and he looks away in embarrassment when he catches her staring back, unimpressed. He clears his throat and raises his arm back to the mirror.

His hand glows a soft, pulsing green, and the mirror takes a moment before it shines back the same colour, the shifting colours of the Eluvian somehow more vibrant and shining.

“Come,” He calls, and steps through the mirror.

She watches him go, and stands in the room alone, peering at the Eluvian before she nods to herself in reassurance and takes the plunge. 


End file.
